Page 262 of Remy

Her kiss is wild and ravenous, her tongue dancing with mine as she rolls her hips and grinds into me.

I slide my hands up those beautiful thighs to her ass, guiding her into another grind, countering my hips with her movements, simulating sex over and over until she’s panting for more.

“I can’t wait to be inside you.” The rub against my covered cock is already too much. I could come like this.

That’s what she does to me. Makes me crazed. Desperate.

“There’s no need to wait.” She undoes the buttons of my shirt, then pushes my clothes over my shoulders—jacket and shirt combined—the material catching at my wrists.

She leans back, her eyes sparkling. “Looks like you’re trapped. What a predicament.”

I grin. I’ll give her the freedom to explore. To feel comfortable. For now. “Take advantage while you can. The tables will turn soon enough.”

She tightens her thighs around me, her nails scratching up my ribs. She learns my body with her lips and palms, placing kisses along my shoulders and neck, dragging light fingertips over my pecs and stomach.

It’s the sweetest oblivion.

A mindless tease.

“You have an incredible body.” She drags her tongue up my throat, her breaths panted, the continued rub of her pussy making me groan.

“Just wait until I get my hands on yours.”

“I better hurry then.” She rushes to undo my pants, discarding the belt and lowering the zipper.

Then she pauses, suddenly timid as she stares at my bulge.

“Take it out.” I fist the bed coverings, my fingers throbbing for action.

She does as instructed, lowering the waistband of my boxer briefs over my length.

“Grab my cock, Ollie.” It takes all my restraint not to touch her, to keep my fucking arms immobile.

She eyes my dick, her thighs squeezing around me, her want for me making the engorged length throb. Tentatively, those delicate fingers rake over me, light with the first stroke, then harder with a gentle squeeze.

Fuck.

I’m in trouble.

“Protection?” she asks.

“I’ve got no hands, Pyro. That’s your job now.”

She bites her bottom lip and looks up at me from under thick lashes. “Do you always use it?”

“Always. Top bedside drawer. Left corner.”

“So you’re clean?” She makes no move to grab for the condoms. Instead, she shyly licks her lips and stares back down at my cock. “And you know I am, right?”

Every. Fucking. Muscle. Tenses.

I incline my head, speechless at her implication.

“Would you mind if I felt what it’s like without?” she asks. “Just for a little while?”

Would I mind?

Would. I. Fucking. Mind?

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