Page 83 of The Perfect Mistake

The first touch against my clit makes me sigh in relief. God, I’d thought about this since the other night, and wanted it again, and thought it wouldn’t happen. There’s something about his clear need to do this that washes away my self-consciousness and embarrassment.

My fingers tighten in his hair. “Alec,” I whisper. “I want to do this to you, too. I want us to… oh. Oh.”

He slides a finger inside me at the same time as sucking on my clit, and I can’t focus anymore. All I know is that I want more this time. More. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, and my hips move against him of their own accord.

I don’t know how long he works me, but it’s till I’m at the very edge. I tug on his shoulders. “Alec. I want you.”

He looks up at me with eyes that are near-black. All pupils, and all desire. “I can do this all night.”

I shake my head. “This is me telling you what I want. That’s what you wanted, right? Well, I want you.”

A smile ghosts over his lips. “You want me to do what?”

“Fuck me,” I whisper.

He slides another finger inside of me. “You’re ready for me, too, aren’t you.”

“Yes,” I breathe.

“So wet and so pretty.” He kisses my clit a final time, making me shiver, before he rises. I step out of my panties and reach for his bottoms, wanting to tug them down and off.

He lets me this time.

I pull on the elastic to get it over his erection, and his cock bounces free. I was right. He is big, and he’s so hard, and I have to touch him.

He hisses at the contact. “Careful, sweetheart.”

The skin is hot beneath my palm, and I stroke him clumsily, carefully, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His chest rises and falls with heavy breathing, and I want to make him feel just as out of control as he’s been doing to me.

He’s longer than average, and definitely thicker.

Alec just breathes heavily and watches me stroke his cock. But when I brush over the swollen head, his trance breaks. He shakes his head. “No. You can play around with me later. But not now.”

“Did you bring…?”

A smile flashes across his lips. “Yes. But what’s the word?”

“Condoms.”

“That’s it,” he says. He kicks his pants off entirely and digs through the pocket to pull out a single wrapper. The gold foil reflects the light of my bedside lamp.

He tears it open and rolls the condom on with those large hands of his, the ones I’ve admired for years. Long-fingered and broad-backed, and so masculine. Seeing him grip himself is a sight I’ll never forget.

He looks at my body, and his jaw tenses. “Sweetheart, you have to be in control of this, because I can’t. I have no control left in me.”

“Good.” I run my nails over his chest, and he hisses out a breath. “I don’t want you in control.”

He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them again, they’re blazing. He moves to my bed and lies down on his back. His cock juts out, tilted north. It looks obscenely large against his stomach. “Come here,” he says and reaches for me. “You’re on top.”

I climb onto the bed next to him. “Okay. I’m not good at—”

“You’ll be fucking amazing, and I need to be inside you,” he says. “But this will let you control the entry.”

I straddle his hips. He looks massive on my bed, lying with his head on the pillow I sleep on every night. The tendons in his neck protrude, and there’s a deep groove between his eyebrows, like he’s aching.

I grip him, holding him straight, and try to notch him at my entrance. He grips my hips and watches me, watches us, as I finally slide the broad head of him inside.

I exhale shakily at the feeling. Yeah, he really is thick, and it’s been over a year since I had sex.

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