Page 8 of Chase Me

We stay like that in silence for a moment while he rubs my shoulders, down my arms, and then my back.

“Was this really your first time doing something like this?” he asks after a while.

“Being chased through the woods?” I laugh. “Yes.”

He chuckles. “You seemed like a natural.”

I roll over onto my back so I can look at him, smiling lazily. “I’m great at getting caught.”

“You’re great at a lot of things…” Connor grins, his face leaning over mine so he can plant a kiss on my lips. The softness is such a contrast compared to his rough touch and harsh words back in the woods. “You’re a good listener,” he says softly as he hoists his leg over me so he’s straddling my waist.

“You’re hot as hell,” he tells me, his hands skimming up the sides of my body, dragging his shirt with them. My pussy is exposed again, still wet and sensitive from our earlier activities. His hands reach my tits under his shirt, and he palms them, gentle at first, and then he squeezes them harder, pinching my nipples between his thumb and forefinger and making me hum.

Something about this stunningly attractive man telling me how hot I am has my body melting into molten lava beneath him. I wonder if he knows how goddamn hot he is. The muscles, the tattoos, the beard—all of it has me trapped in his spell. I reach out to him, running my hands along the smooth planes of his skin, unable to hold myself back from feeling more of him.

“You’re shit at running from me.” He grins, and the statement makes me laugh out again. “But I like that about you,” he adds, leaning in to press another kiss to my lips. This time, he fuses them against mine, his tongue slipping through to invade my mouth as his hands roam over my body.

I don’t know what it is about this man that has me dropping all my guards, opening myself up to him. His touch lights my skin on fire and as his hands roam over the curves of my body, I feel myself aching for his touch lower.

I arch into him, my body begging for the friction his jeans give me.

“Naughty girl,” he whispers. “You still want more?”

“Please.” The word leaves my lips as a plea. I’ve never begged a man before, not for anything. But twice tonight, I’ve pleaded with this man, begging for anything he has to offer me. I’d take it all.

“I love hearing you beg.” His voice grows deeper, and his eyes darken as he looks down at me. “You just can’t get enough, huh?” he asks.

“Never.” The word sounds sultry coming from my lips. This new version of Ivy is insatiable; now that she’s found how good sex can be, she can’t get enough.

“Oh, pretty girl,” he practically moans. “You’re too fucking good for me.” His hands roam over my body again, squeezing my hips, caressing my stomach, then lingering on my tits. He leans in, pressing kisses along my cheek, chin, collarbone. Then, following the trail his hands make, he kisses every inch of my skin, moving himself lower until he’s lying between my thighs, his mouth hovering over my waiting sex.

If his hands weren’t pressing my hips down, I’d be trying to grind on his face already. My pussy is aching, needy for his touch, and he can tell, but he doesn’t shame me for it. Instead, he leans in, running his tongue along my seam.

The feeling is incredible, but not enough, and my hands involuntarily reach out, wanting to grip his head and push him where I want him.

“Uh uh.” He pulls his face away, tsking me. “Hands at your sides, or I stop.”

“No,” I cry. “Please don’t stop-”

“Then listen,” he admonishes me and, for some reason, it lights a fire in my core. I like when he’s demanding, when he tells me what to do.

I move my hands to my sides immediately, sliding them under my ass to prevent me from trying to use them again.

“Good girl,” he tells me, and once again, the words worm their way through my chest, making me feel warm and light.

His tongue finds my aching core once more, running along my slit frustratingly slow. Fingernails bite into the skin of my ass as I try to keep my hands planted. I desperately want to use them to guide him, to press his tongue to my clit, but I know Connor is good to his word, and if my fingers grip his hair, he’ll stop his ministrations.

“You’re such a good fucking slut.” The dirty words wash over me, and I whimper. I’m in a hazy space again, one where the only people that exist are Connor and me. When his tongue dives into me again, I’m trembling.

Needy. Desperate. Aching.

Connor touches me in a way I’ve never been touched. His tongue explores me like I’m the most delicious meal and he hasn’t eaten in days.

My hips wiggle, my pussy desperate for his mouth to move up to find my throbbing clit.

“Please.” My plea this time leaves me in the form of an anguished moan

Finally, his tongue finds my clit, running languid circles over the swollen nub. The feeling is intoxicating, sending more heat to my core. He speeds up, giving me a taste of what’s to come, stoking the flames of my orgasm in the best ways. And then he slows down again, letting the heat simmer and taking away what almost was.

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