Page 48 of Lovingly Restored

“That answer your question?” His voice is low.Oh, god.

“Yeah,” I rasp.

He walks me backward toward his bed. “Ashlyn, what do you want? Tell me what you want,” he pants.

“You. I want you.”

The comforter brushes the back of my thighs as he crowds me. When I fall back onto the soft bed he follows, climbing on top of me with his delicious warmth and weight. The erection that grazed my stomach is pressed hard against me now. Isaac is long. Thick. Hot. His hard shoulders flex beneath my fingers, abs twitching as I shamelessly pet them. I’m greedy for more, wiggling my hand between us. He chuckles, putting more of his weight onto his forearms to give me access. I waste no time cupping as much of his package in one palm as I can. My pussy clenches when he groans. The top of my thighs are wet. A shiver rolls through me, goosebumps erupting on my flesh.

“Here,” he says, reaching for something then smoothing a soft knitted blanket over my legs.

I’m smiling dumbly into the dark at the sweet gesture. The fabric doesn’t stop his wandering hands, and as he shifts to lay next to me, his fingers dance up my thighs.

“How’re you supposed to see what you’re doing with this blanket?”

“I don’t need to see. I can feel.”

In the dark, his voice sounds low and sexy, and my chest is heaving when he reaches my pussy. Resting the heel of his hand over my pubic bone, he cups me with his entire palm and holds still.

“I canfeelthat this sweet pussy is warm for me,“ he whispers, and I melt deeper into the comforter. “I canfeelthat you’re already soaked.”

The pressure of his hand. The rumble of his words in his chest. The man is going to talk me to a fucking orgasm.

I reach out, wrapping my hand around his shaft and squeezing.

“Fuck me, Ashlyn. Those hands.”

I pant against the crook of his neck. “You’re so fucking hard.”

“That’s for you, babe. All for you.”

I’m squirming beneath his hot, heavy hand that he’s holding frustratingly still.

“Touch me.” Arousal and impatience marry together in my voice.

My thighs fall apart, still under the blanket. He’s kissing my neck, my breasts, my stomach.

“Isaac,” I cry.

“Shhh…”

I’m swollen, writhing, and soaking wet for him. He eases off, two fingers barely gliding along my outer lips.

“Is that better?” he asks, increasing the pressure of his caresses.

My only reply is a needy moan.

A low chuckle vibrates through his chest. “Ashlyn, you’re so ready.”

I buck my hips. “Mmm-hmm.” Anything to urge him on.

“I fucking lovethis,“ he growls, grabbing my dark curls in his fist and lightly tugging.

A gasp accompanies the pleasure that rushes between my legs.

“Really?”

“Let me show you how much.”

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