Page 27 of Made Over by Meredith

He kissed me like he knew what he was doing.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing and certainly didn’t need me instructing him on how to win over a woman.

Because, fuck, he had me.

I didn’t know how or when I ended up on the sofa, but he unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them off, followed by my underwear. He rucked my T-shirt up above my bra, his mouth at my nipple, licking and sucking like it was candy. And I was there, dazed and confused, writhing under the wet warmth of his mouth and the gentle but firm pressure of his hand skimming up my thigh.

“I want to kiss you here,” he told me, his fingers playing at the sensitive skin between my legs. “Tell me you want that, too.”

“I… I…don’t…” I panted, overcome with sweat, and ripped off my T-shirt.

Aiden’s eyes flared, and he pulled on my hips, positioning me right at the edge of the cushion before removing my bra, leaving me completely naked while he was still dressed.

“You said I need to learn how to touch you,” he told me, and I shook my head.

“Notme.”

He nodded, licking his lips and kneeling on the floor in front of me.

“I meant…” I couldn’t say her name, but when I’d instructed him to learn what touches turned on a woman, I meant Celeste. Not me.

And yet, here I was, flushed and wet, needy and whimpering.

“I want to learn what you like,” he rasped a moment before he tossed his glasses off to the side and bent forward, resting his cheek on my thigh as he dragged his fingertips down my slit, like he was truly learning me. Learning my shape and scent and the exact way I liked to be teased. He played and plied until I couldn’t take it anymore, pressing my heels up onto the end of the couch to raise my hips, desperate for me.

“You want it?” Aiden murmured and ran the tip of his tongue along the crease of my hip. “You want me to make you feel good?”

“Please,” I begged, my voice sounding far away. I couldn’t remember the last time I begged a man for anything. I was the one who made them beg.

“Tell me you want me to make you feel good. Tell me you want my mouth on you,” he ordered, and I tunneled my fingers through his hair, grabbing the ends.

“Yes. Yes, I want your mouth on me.”

“Tell me you want me to give you an orgasm.”

I growled. “Fuck, Aiden. Yes! Give me an orgasm. Put your mouth on me before I die.”

He hummed against me, and I could feel his curling smile as he kissed my pussy. I cried out at the first lick of his tongue up the length of me, and I scratched my nails along his neck, exhaling harshly. He used the flat of his tongue, repeatedly licking everywhere except where I wanted him. But just as I was about to tell him, he flicked at my clit, and I jerked in his hold.

He reached his hands up to my breasts, cupping them roughly, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples, connecting an invisible line of fire straight to my clit. He strummed and plucked and never once let up with his mouth. Even as I bucked my hips and crushed my thighs against his head.

“Oh god,” I moaned. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

He groaned a reply I didn’t quite catch in my delirium then formed his lips around my clit, sucking and sucking, flicking his tongue back and forth, and I felt the first spasms deep in my belly, my muscles reflexively tensing and releasing as he brought me higher and higher. He sent me flying with a hard pinch of my nipples and lash of his tongue.

Of their own accord, my legs splayed out in what was most assuredly an ugly pose, but Aiden didn’t seem to care. In fact, he backed away a few inches, licking his glistening lips as his eyes roved over me, his gaze following where his hands traced my sides, hips, and outer thighs.

“You liked that?” he asked, but he didn’t really need the answer. He had it in my breathlessness, it the way I struggled to straighten myself on the couch. But as I attempted to wiggle into a more attractive position, he clamped his hands on my waist. “Let me…”

“Let you what?” I asked, fruitlessly trying to cover up, since he was determined to keep me naked and open to him.

He pushed my thighs wider, then dragged his palms over my lower stomach and up to my breasts, gently massaging them before trailing his fingertips back down to the sensitive skin of my pussy. He sunk his middle finger into me, rotating his wrist until his palm faced up, his digit curling against the top wall, stroking the spot that made me quiver.

I cried out. “Oh, my god!”

He watched me writhe, inserting a second finger, easing them in and out, rubbing over and over, stealing my breath with every thrust.

“I can’t… I can’t…”

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