Page 53 of Against The Rules

“Pull your dress up,” he growls, breaking off the kiss.

My breath’s already coming so fast, my pulse racing from the heady effect of his hands on my skin, his mouth on mine.

I’m not sure about a whole lot when it comes to Tyler—but I am sure that I want this.

He pulls out my bobby pin, shaking my hair loose, a low sound of approval in his throat as he pulls me back in for a kiss. It’s savage, claiming, and nothing like the light, exploratory sweetness when we were standing in front of his bookshelves.

I love it. I love how he’s let himself loose, I love that it’s for me.

I may not be sexy, but I feel sexy right now.

He makes me feel sexy.

I scoot back further onto the soft white bedding, kicking my shoes off and grinning up at him.

“You’re perfect.” His voice is hoarse. He runs his hands up my calves, my knees, and I have the random thought that I’m glad I shaved this morning as he continues to stroke his way up my thighs.

It’s been a while since I’ve been with a guy. I should be nervous, shouldn’t I?

I’m not. Not at all.

I want this. I want Ty.

“Is this what you want?” I ask, grinning, biting back a laugh and reveling in the fact that this huge, powerful man is basically eating out of the palm of my hand.

I inch the skirt of my dress up, showing off more thigh. His hands chase the newly revealed skin, and he groans as I continue to pull my skirt up.

Further, further still. His eyes don’t leave mine, though, not until I reach the top of my hip, totally exposing myself to him.

“Yes,” he groans. “That’s what I fucking want. I’m going to touch you, Savannah. I’m going to feel how wet you are for me.” He kisses the inside of my thigh, still watching my face, still waiting, I realize.

For an answer.

It shouldn’t be so damn hot, that he wants me to say yes, that he’s holding himself back until I’m ready. Raw affection wraps around my heart and squeezes.

“I want you to touch me,” I tell him softly.

I told him what I want, and yet it still shocks me when he does, not just touching me, but kissing his way up the rest of my thigh until his breath is hot against my bare pussy.

When he braces his hands against my upper thighs, spreading me wide, I moan and rake my fingers through his hair, then pull him closer.

“Fuck, Savannah,” is all he says, and then he licks.

“Tyler,” I moan, unable to say anything else.

Unable to do anything but writhe against his mouth, against his onslaught, giving myself to him as he licks devastatingly slow circles around my clit.

“So fucking wet,” he mutters, and I whimper as he massages a big finger around my opening, then fills me with a thrust.

I arch off the bed as he sucks my clit at the same time, calling his name, starting to truly build toward climax.

“So responsive. I can’t believe you didn’t wear underwear. I am so fucking hot for you.”

He licks again, and our eyes lock.

“I’m so close, it feels so good.” If I were with my ex, I’d be thinking how stupid that sounds, how annoying I must be, but with Tyler, all I can think is that it’s the damn truth.

His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he adds a second finger. My fingernails scrabble against his shoulders, the fabric too much between us.

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