Page 43 of Charmingly Obsessed
I don’t offer her a drink, though my bar is stocked with Cristal and single malts older than she is. Don’t ask if she’s hungry, though my chef could whip up a Michelin-starred meal in under an hour. Don’t suggest a tour of the penthouse, though the views are panoramic and the art collection curated to impress.
No. None of that polite, civilized bullshit.
Instead, I press Diana against the cold, unyielding granite of the island countertop.
And I don’t move, not an inch, once she’s finally back in my arms, her soft curves molded against my hard, aching body.
I want to start gently, but the kiss itself takes over. It’s a force of nature that pulls us into a desperate whirlpool of sensation and long-denied need.
I tease her hesitant tongue with my own, a playful exploration that quickly escalates.That’ll teach me.She mumbles something incoherent, a soft protest or maybe a plea, and I snap. Some thin thread of control I didn’t even know I possessed just… shatters.
A thrill of savage satisfaction courses through me as I pull her deeper into the kiss. I grip her soft, yielding body, my hands roaming as if with their own will, registering the feel of her beneath my palms.
Grasping her hips, pulling her flush against my hard cock. Sliding up her sides, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin there. Finding the lush swell of her breasts through the thin fabric of her blouse.
Her palm flutters nervously against my stomach. I catch it with my lips, sucking hard enough on the delicate skin of her wrist to leave a mark, a brand.
My mouth moves higher up the inside of her arm to her throat, tasting the frantic pulse there as I work to memorize her skin.
We collide in shuddering exhales, then meet again in another kiss – long, reckless, unyielding. Devouring. The loose tendrils of her hair at her nape are damp with steam from her earlier shower, or maybe just with the heat radiating between us. I want to taste them. To pull her so deep inside me there’s no separation. No beginning or end. Just us.
She’s flushed, her beautiful face rosy with arousal, her gaze soft and unfocused, unable to quite land on me. Lost. And mine.
I grip the edge of the countertop so hard my knuckles ache, the granite biting into my skin. Hold back. Just a little longer.Control, you son of a bitch, control. Soon enough, she’ll be looking up at me from the cool, crisp sheets of my bed…
“I don’t want this day to end,” I murmur, the words escaping me, unplanned. I’m not even sure why I say it again. It’s just… true.
Diana presses closer, her face grazing mine, her soft sigh a whisper against my cheek. A silent agreement.
My hand, seemingly with a mind of its own, skims down her side, over the curve of her hip, to her thigh. And then, it slips between her legs, under the soft fabric of her skirt, under the flimsy elastic of her panties, searching for the heat, the wetness I know I’ll find there. Finding it.
I soak in the slick, molten warmth of her with my fingers, a low groan rumbling in my chest. She’s so wet for me. So ready.
She doesn’t realize what’s happening at first, lost in the haze of our kisses. Then she shifts against my hand, a restless, almost involuntary movement. I nudge her face gently with my nose,needing to see her expression, needing to drink in the sight of her unraveling for me.
This time, she isn’t tense with fear. This time, her eyes are wide with a dawning awareness. But there’s still a tremor of fear there. Of the unknown. Of me.
“Diana,” I whisper, my voice thick, ragged. I tilt my head. “We don’t do anything here… anything at all… that we both don’t want. You just have to say the word. Just… tell me.”
“It feels good. So good. I just… I’m nervous. It’s… a lot.”
I stroke her slowly then, deliberately, holding my own ravenous greed on the tightest possible leash.
And fuck, that leash is too damn short. It’s fraying. Breaking.
“God, I need you,” I murmur against her skin, trying to press the words, the desperate truth of them, directly into her soul. “I need you, Diana. Like I need air.”
I lose control of my hand then. Completely. I pick up the pace, my fingers slicking through her wet heat, finding that tight, swollen nub, rubbing, circling, pressing.
She gasps, her body arching against me. Overwhelmed. She’s always so surprised by everything. By her own reactions. By me. Christ. However she wants it – fast, slow, rough, tender – I’ll give it to her. I’ll give her everything.
I press my body against her side, molding to her soft curves, tilting her head back just enough with my hand tangled in her hair. I want her to see. To watch.
To see my fingers slipping inside her. Deep. Claiming.
To get used to how this is going to look. How this is going to be. Us. Together.
We breathe raggedly, out of sync, our bodies trembling. I pull out my fingers, then push back in her sweet wet pussy, rubbing, stroking her clit – she’s so warm, so incredibly slick, I can’t stop. I’ll never get enough of this. Of her.
