Page 87 of Exes and O's

“Hey, I don’t have to touch it if you don’t want me to,” I tease.

“Oh, I want you to. So long as you don’t bite me,” he warns, pressing the softest bite into my neck. “I hear you have a history of biting.”

“Deal. I promise,” I pant, desperate to speed things along. “Now make with the middle name.”

With one smooth move, he climbs over me, pressing my back flat against the mattress. His forearms cage me in on both sides, bracing his weight. “It’s James,” he whispers as he pulls my right thigh over his chiseled waist.

“Trevor James Metcalfe,” I repeat, loving the way it rolls off my tongue.

“Say my name again,” he orders, his voice low and gravelly.

I do as I’m told, three times over.

“There is no one like you, Tara Li Chen.” The warmth of his breath tickles against my neck as his hand sweeps down the valley between my breasts.

Gently, he pushes my other thigh open. The coolness of the air sends a tingle through me, settling in my belly. Without hesitation, he tugs the lace of my thong aside, not bothering to remove it completely before smoothing his fingers over me with the precision of a heart surgeon. He lets out a garbled string of curses when he feels how much I want him.

“Yes,” I say through a sharp intake of breath, fighting an embarrassingly dramatic quiver. All my thoughts burst into mist and nothingness. I’m gone. Down the rabbit hole. Already lost in wonderland as the friction builds with each swipe of his finger.

“Does that feel good?” he whispers, easing one finger in, followed by a second.

“Mm-hmm,” I manage, clipped, as I clench around him,rocking against him in a slow rhythm. My nails grip into his back, probably leaving scratch marks on his perfect skin.

He’s mumbling a bunch of things I can’t fully hear down there, about how sensitive I am to his touch. How tight I am. How wet I am. How much he wants me. And when he says, “Tell me what you like,” he nearly sends me over the edge.

I’ve had exes who’ve asked me for instructions during sex, almost to the point of ruining the mood. But it drives me wild when Trevor asks in that rough, primitive voice that grabs hold of my insides. There’s an air of confidence that tells me he doesn’t truly need instruction. He knows exactly what he’s doing, moving at the perfect pace and angle, cherishing me, taking care of me like I’ve never been cared for before.

“I think you already know. Somehow you know. Maybe you’re a psychic,” I say through a half moan, half gasp.

“No,” he mutters. “I’ve just had months to agonize over it. Over you. Walking around the apartment in those little sweaterdresses. Running from the bathroom to your room in your towel when you think I’m not looking. It’s been a lot of long, cold showers.”

“Really?”

His gaze incinerates me on the spot. “Did you not notice how long I have to wait before getting out of the hot tub after you? You’ve been driving me fucking wild.”

At his words, I buck unexpectedly against his hand, clenching around him. “Trevor, that feels so good. So good.”

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I’ve had a couple dreams about it,” I admit.Or ten.

He smiles. “Dreams like this? Care to elaborate?”

I nod. “In the first one, we were in your car. You had your mouth on me.”

“Did it feel good?” He picks up the pace, meeting my eyes.

“The best,” I pant. “Except you didn’t make me come. Because the real you woke me up.”

His soft laugh vibrates into my neck as he runs his finger over the band of my thong, finally tugging it down all the way. “Trust me, that won’t be a problem this time.” He gives me one more cocky smile before lowering himself between my legs.

Seamlessly, his mouth takes the place of his hand. Just like in my illicit dream, we’re connected. He knows what I want before I can even tell him. Every languid swipe, turn, press, never lingering for too long before telling me how good I taste, how he can feel me pulsing on his tongue.

My legs tremble, and he holds them wide open, taking control entirely, winding me up until I’m convinced I’m facing impending death. Every nerve ending is a live wire, on fire, multiplying with every swipe.

Unexpectedly, I cry out as it all surges into one powerful, unrelenting release. I don’t hear a thing as wave after wave sizzles through me. I’m still trembling when his gaze locks with mine, visibly taking pleasure in how he’s made me feel. Right before his eyes, I’m unspooling like I never have before, like twine pulled tight to the point of snapping. The aftershock leaves me breathless, floored, motionless.

I’m only brought back to earth when he moves back over me, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.

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