Our kiss is the equivalent of fire meeting gasoline…destroying everything around us as he slowly—meticulously—fucks my mouth with his.
I try to breathe, but it’s useless because he’s siphoning every ounce of oxygen from my body…stealing my heart and soul with every sensual brush of his lips and desperate slide of his tongue.
Groaning, he snakes his hand between us, cupping me where I’m still wet and aching. “Jesus.”
He eases me back onto the bed, his thumbs grazing my ribcage as his mouth descends down my body.
“Don’t tease me again,” I plead because I honestly don’t think I can take it.
He presses a gentle kiss to my hip while I open for him. “No more teasing.” His hot and hungry gaze lingers on my pussy as he glides his knuckle down my slit. “So fucking pretty.”
The first stroke of his tongue is so sudden—so greedy—I jolt and nearly fall off the bed.
His hands press down on my open thighs, pinning me to the mattress as he feasts on me like a man deprived of food.
My body tightens like a fist when he latches on to my clit, suckling and pulling the sensitive bud with a cadence that has me pulsing violently underneath him.
I dig my nails into his scalp as ripples of pleasure shoot through me like tiny fireworks. “Oh, God.”
His gaze darkens as he peers up at me. “Look at me when you come.”
It’s the only warning I get before he attacks my clit, finding a rhythm that has my thighs quivering and my mind spinning.
My orgasm is so fast, so powerful, it robs me of breath and sends everything around me spiraling. A strangled, broken sound leaves me as I stare down at him while he draws every drop of pleasure from my body like a dedicated musician playing his favorite instrument.
Emotion clogs in my throat. There was no hiding from Oakley—no withdrawing—no escaping.
He took and I gave.
The sound of him lowering his zipper buzzes in my ears.
And then he’s hovering above me, the tip of his dick nudging my entrance. “I want to fuck you.”
Nerves bunch in my belly as I debate whether or not I should tell him.
But that’s stupid I soon realize because of course I have to tell him.
There’s no way he won’t know.
I start to speak…but something strange passes in his gaze.
“You’re not…” His expression twists in confusion, as though I’m a puzzle he’s trying to work out, but can’t. “Bianca, are you a virgin?”
I can’t lie to him.
“A little,” I whisper.
Closing his eyes, he drops his head.
“It’s not a big deal,” I say quickly.
I want it to be him.
It needs to be him.
Blowing out a breath, he cups my cheek. “You were right before. I do see you.” Before I can stop him, he eases off me. “And you deserve more than this.”
With that…he takes off.
And I lie there hating myself for holding on to something that pushed him away.
A small gasp leaves me when I feel a warm, wet feather touch glide over my pussy.
For a moment, I think I’m having another flashback, but after my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize that’s not possible because I’m in Stone’s bed.
And he’s under the covers…with his head between my legs.
Shit.
A bolt of pleasure generates inside me when his tongue finds my clit and he gives it a tentative flick.
However, just as I’m starting to enjoy myself, his mouth disappears. The pleasure that was building goes poof and I’m left frustrated and confused.
Stone once confided in me that he didn’t enjoy reciprocating oral because the taste and smell was off-putting to him and it just wasn’t his thing.
Needless to say, after hearing that, I felt weird ever bringing it up or asking him to go down on me.
I’m not quite sure why he’s doing it now, but I’m certainly not going to ruin the moment and ask while he’s trying his best to please me.
His mouth returns to my pussy and he gives my clit another quick exploratory graze.
I want to tell him he needs to apply some suction and stay there a bit, but I don’t want to make him feel like he’s doing something wrong or discourage him.
Not that it would matter anyway because he withdraws his mouth again. A moment later his head appears from underneath the sheet and his cock is nestled inside of me.
“Fuck,” he croaks.
A weird feeling hits me as he begins thrusting.
I was sleeping.
Granted he was trying to take care of me, but isn’t it common courtesy to at least make sure your partner is awake before you take off their pants and go to town?
Guilt flickers in my chest when I take into account that I was having a sexual memory involving another guy.
For all I know I might have said something that led Stone to believe I was in the mood and he obliged.
“You’re so wet for me tonight,” he groans as his thrusts pick up speed.
Wanting to make it good for him, I wrap my legs tighter around his waist and moan.
His face screws up and he starts panting. “You feel so good.” A giant shudder moves through his body. “Oh, fuck. Bourne…I’m coming. I’m coming so hard.”
His lips meet mine in a long kiss as he collapses in a sweaty heap on top of me. “I love you.”
I trace the curve of his cheek. “I love you, too.”
Dipping his head, he kisses me again. “Did you come?”
I give him a small smile. “Yeah.”
In the past…
With another man.
Chapter 19
Bianca
“We’re gonna be late,” Stone mutters as he barges through the door of my dorm room.
“I know,” I tell him. “I just need two more minutes.”
Ignoring his huff of annoyance, I turn back to the mirror and finish applying my favorite shade of lipstick.
Tonight we’re having dinner with a few of Stone’s new friends from the premed program he’s in. Given he never went out of his way to make any friends before now, it’s a pretty big deal.
I quickly give myself a once-over in the mirror. I wanted to be cute but sensible, so I chose a purple off the shoulder sweater dress and paired it with some black leggings and high-heeled boots.
I can feel Stone’s eyes on me as I put on some silver hoop earrings.
“Don’t you think that’s a little…you know?”
“A little what?” I question, not understanding what he means.
He sweeps a hand up and down, gesturing to my outfit. “Your dress. It’s too short.” His eyes fall to my bare shoulder. “And showing too much skin.”
I have to stifle a laugh because my dress is pretty tame compared to some of the other articles of clothing hanging in my closet at home. “You’re kidding, right?”
The terse way his jaw sets tells me he isn’t.
Visibly irritated, he glances at his watch. “It’s too late to change now. Just wear a jacket.”
Part of me wants to argue because he’s being ridiculous, but I know it’s only because he’s nervous seeing as he’s not the best at socializing and these new friends of his are important to him.