Page 65 of The Perfect Mistake

His fingers do nothing but tease. Touch. Stroke. No circling and no entering, and maybe that’s good, maybe that’s foreplay, even if my body feels ready for more. Much faster than I expected I would.

He kisses my collarbone. My chest. He drops to his knees, right there on the bathroom floor, and then he just stops moving altogether. His eyes are locked on the spot between my legs, my panties still pulled to the side.

I feel bare.

“You’re perfect,” he says. His voice is husky, and the hands brushing up my thighs, spreading me wider against the cage of my jeans, are rough. “So perfect, it hurts to look at. I’ve been in pain since you moved in, but I wouldn’t stop this ache for anything.”

I can’t breathe.

I bury my hand in his hair and let the words wash over me, through me, doing the same things as his touch.

He kisses the inside of my knee before gripping the fabric of my panties. “Lift yourself again.”

I do and, a few seconds later, I’m completely bare. Well, I’m still wearing my top, my boots, my jeans… even if the latter are down around my calves now.

Alec presses a hand to my lower stomach and leans in. The first touch of his lips against my heated skin makes me sigh. Oh. He’s teasing, and insistent, and uses his lips the same way he’d used his fingers. To familiarize himself with me.

I look down at his thick hair, strong forehead, closed eyes… his head between my thighs. The image sends another pulse of need through me.

I can’t believe Alec is doing this. I can’t believe it’s him I’m hearing, his groans against my pussy.

“You’re perfect,” he mutters. His tongue joins the action, and I lean back against the mirror, trying to relax. Holy shit. It feels so different than it has before. He’s hot and relentless against my clit, and in between licks, he does these little sucking motions like he wants me in his mouth. “So fucking perfect. Always knew you’d be.”

I close my eyes and surrender to the sizzling pleasure coursing through my body.

“You’ve been thinking about this?” I ask. It comes out breathy.

His left hand presses on my lower stomach, forcing me to lean back and give him better access. “Yes,” he says. He locks his lips around my clit and oh. Wow. This is good, it’s good, maybe even good enough that I can come if he keeps doing this, and that makes me feel out of control.

It also makes me feel powerful.

“Isa,” he says, using the nickname I’ve always been called by my family. The one Sam recently started using. But Alec’s voice is husky, his warm breath ghosting over my swollen flesh. “Tell me what you like.”

“Um, this.”

His fingers caress up my inner thigh, and his mouth speeds up. A groan escapes him. “Finger inside at the same time?” he asks, and something about his deep, familiar voice asking me, makes a fierce blush break out on my cheeks.

I’ve had sex before. Of course I have. Even consistently. Although, that was only for the six months I had a boyfriend in my early twenties.

But we never talked during sex like this. Never gave words to actions, never articulated our desires. It was all about interpreting signals and hinting at what felt good, pleasing and performing, and it was nice, very nice, but this doesn’t feel nice at all. This feels so much more than nice.

Alec looks up at me. His eyes are dark, and there’s fire burning in them. “Sweetheart, tell me what you need to come. Tell me what you like.”

I’m breathing fast and shallow. “What you’re doing,” I whisper. “If you’re not getting tired.”

His lips tip into a smile. “Tired? I’m not that old, and even if I were, this pussy would raise me from the dead. I’ll do what I’ve been doing, but you tell me if what you want changes.”

“Mm-hmm. Yes,” I say. It’s uncomfortable, sitting here with the lights on and my legs spread, and him kneeling right between them while having a conversation. Even if hearing him say those words makes the muscles in my stomach clench.

Alec kisses my upper thigh. Returns to the spot between my legs, and this time, it’s with the intensity he applies to everything in his life. I grip his hair again and focus on breathing, because he knows what he’s doing, and he’s flicking his tongue, and his large hands are spread over my hips, thumbs pushing against the top of my slit.

It’s too much. Energy courses beneath my skin, and it needs to release somehow, or I’ll explode, or maybe that’s exactly what I need. My fingers tighten in his hair. I’m about to push him away because it’s too much when the orgasm barrels through me.

It robs me of my breath. My thighs tighten around his face, and he licks me through it, finishing with a few soft kisses. I slump back against the mirror.

“I didn’t know that could happen,” I murmur.

He grins. I wonder if that’s the first grin I’ve ever seen on him, and that smile makes him look gloriously alive. “I did.”

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