Page 10 of Close Knit

“Mattress, huh? Who knew knitting could be so sexual.” Flames dance in his eyes as he clasps his mouth over the lace bralette covering my nipple. My skin pebbles.

“Oh gosh, you’re exceptional at that.”

He chuckles and continues to cup, tug, and massage every inch of my body until my nerves dissipate. Teeth against my jaw. Tongue tracing my pulse. Unmatched to anything I’ve ever felt before.

When he’s had his fill, he navigates to the foot of the bed, moving with the litheness of a panther. He hovers above me. His golden-brown gaze consumes me. “Fucking look at you,” he groans desperately.

I do as he says, running my own eyes over my long legs, which I always felt were too dimpled and plump, my soft belly, and my C-cup breasts, which are far fuller at the bottom than they are at the top unless I squeeze them into a push-up bra. But every part of me shines a little differently under his attention.

He bites his knuckle.

“Are you going to keep staring?” I attempt a seductive voice.

“All night.” He winks again and gestures to my knees. “Open up.”

I break into a laugh, and he does too, but it doesn’t last long before his hands wrap around my ankles, tugging me down to the edge of the mattress.

“All right, Goose. Feathers are really starting to ruffle now.”

“Oh, are they?” He lowers to his knees.

“Certainly.” I shuffle closer and dig my heels into the mattress. He begins unbuttoning his shirt, but I clasp my hand over his. “Can you leave that on?” He kisses the back of my hand. The affectionate gesture makes me melt. “And roll up your sleeves?”

Another heavy laugh. “Anything the lady wants, she gets.”

All right, this Yes Year is complete. There’s no topping this.

He obliges me and extends his arm. Slowly, he unbuttons his cuffs, keeping his eyes on me as he deftly folds the fabric of each sleeve. My mouth waters at each deliberate motion. His corded forearms are robust and sinewy, hardened from what must be years of intense labor. His skin is taut, bearing marks—scratches and bruises that surely have their own stories.

“Close your mouth, sweet girl. You’re drooling,” he teases. He holsters his palms under my knees, tossing them over his shoulders. I whoop with surprise and fall flat onto my back. “Or don’t. I do enjoy listening to you talk.”

“You’re bossy. I like it.”

His scruff tickles my inner thighs. One of his hands slides beneath my ass. The other teases the waistband of my panties.

“These are cute,” he says against my skin. “Can I rip them off of you and have a taste?”

Oh, fuck, that was so hot. “Rip them off?”

“It’s a yes-or-no question.”

“Yes, please.” I seal my fate. He spins his finger through the lace. A quick sting and the sound of fabric tearing ripples through the room. “Okay, you didn’tactuallyjust do that. Youripped off my panties?! I could’ve sworn that was something people just did in the movies.”

His smirk is cocky and irresistible. “You wanted an unforgettable experience.”

“My god,” I say, bemused. A drop-dead gorgeous man with an ear piercing is about to go down on me. I inhale deeply and nod at him, indicating for him to continue.

He doesn’t hesitate; his tongue laps at the heat collecting at my center. It’s like lightning strikes my chest, stealing my breath in a gasp.

“Fuck,” he grunts against me. “You could drown a man between these thighs.”

Between my shock and a crescendo of moans, he guides my hand into his hair. I grip the strands, drawing him nearer. My hips match his rhythm. Until the room shakes, or I do. Orange and red hues speckle the edges of my vision, and instead of resisting them, I follow them through a rainbow of spinning pleasure. My mind bursts like fireworks as an orgasm—an actual, man-made orgasm—releases from the base of my spine and corrupts me. I’m alive, so very alive.

He crawls toward me and collapses heavily by my side. He tips his nose to mine and plants a small kiss there. “How was that?”

“Mind-blowing.” I half laugh, half sigh. I slither my hand between our bodies and begin undoing the buttons of his shirt, revealing his six-pack. When the last button slips off, he helps me push the shirt off his body before I undo his belt buckle and he stands, shucking off his trousers.

Adonis stands before me. Well-defined abs. Thighs the size of both of my legs combined. My gaze slides down his body, landing on his boxer briefs. My mouth drops open at the outline of his length.

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