Page 48 of Boyfriend
“Hey. Abbi,” he whispers, kissing the bridge of my nose. “Where did you go just now?”
“I’m here!” I say breathlessly. “We were just about to have all the sex—“ I actually bite my tongue in an effort to stop rambling. Ow. “Sorry. Just a brief moment of performance anxiety.”
“Do we have to sing it out?” His pretty eyes smile down at me. “Should I cue up a song on my phone?”
“What?” I snort in an unsexy way. “No! Oh my God.”
“Hang on. Maybe I’m on to something.” He grins. “Which song would be most appropriate for this? How about ‘Shape of You’ by Ed Sheeran? It’s about a bar hookup. I don’t know if I can sing that high, though.”
“Weston!” I clap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing in his face.
“There’s always the classic—‘Let’s Get it On.’” Weston props himself up on an elbow and looks thoughtful. “Or Bruce singing ‘I’m on Fire.’ But I think I prefer The Kinks. ‘You Really Got Me’ speaks the truth. Because I can’t sleep at night, either.”
I blink up into his handsome face, and wonder if he’s even serious. Then he puts those sexy lips together and slowly hums the Kinks’ guitar riff. And I forget that he’s making a joke as that sexy mouth descends to the swell of my breast, tracing my curves very slowly, his hum vibrating across my skin.
Whoa. Now I’ve got goose bumps, and not because of the cold. As he teases my breast, I forget to be nervous. I even forget to breathe. The tickle and scrape. The heat of his mouth…
Wow.
My bra is in the way, though. Reaching back, I unhook that sucker.
“Good girl,” Weston breathes. He grabs the bra and tosses it away. “Fuck, Abbi.” He brings one roughened hand to my breast and gives me a gentle squeeze. “So pretty.” Then he lowers his mouth to my nipple, glancing up at me as he extends his tongue to lap at my peak.
And I let out a hot gasp of excitement. Playful, dirty Weston does not disappoint. He closes his lips around my nipple and sucks. Then he pops off to torture the other breast. And all the while he watches me with those bright, curious eyes.
Is this real life? I feel worshipped. My hands find his muscular shoulders, and I slide my fingers all over his beautiful skin, tracing the vines of those tattoos.
But then he disappears from view, under the covers. “Weston,” I cry, my hands seeking him under the sheet. “Where did you—?“
Two hands tug my underwear off. Then his broad hands land on my thighs, and lips begin to trace and kiss the curve of my hip bone.
Oh boy. I lift the edge of the comforter and peek, because this is too incredible to miss.
As I illuminate Weston, a muffled “whoa” comes from under the covers. He lifts his head. “Who’s a bad girl, Abbi? Do you have a tattoo of a black lab on your thigh?”
“That’s Friendly.”
“Oh, I can be very friendly,” he says with a grin. “But who’s the dog?”
“No, I mean the dog was named Friendly. She was my first pet.“
He laughs. “Kidding, honey. I got it the first time.” He presses a palm down over my tattoo. “Don’t watch, doggo. I’m about to go down on your master.”
I moan. “The things that come out of your mouth.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you mind ‘em too much.” Weston gives me a sexy wink—an actual wink—and then he lowers his mouth to my—
Oh God. “Oh GOD.” That tongue. He’s shameless. It’s a struggle to relax against the bed as he licks and kisses me. My toes curl, and my hips roll. It’s so good. Nobody has ever lavished so much attention on me.
Never. Ever.
I just hope I’m not too sad when it’s over.
Seventeen
I Feel Like a Superhero
Weston
