Page 51 of Green Flag
Maybe it was because I’d had to hide my only relationship for so long… maybe it was because I knew the adrenaline would make me feel alive.
“I can’t do that tonight,” he murmured as he kissed further down my stomach, each peck, each dart of his tongue forcing harsher breaths out of my chest.
He was getting lower and lower, each kiss loosened my muscles and somehow tightened the knot deep within my stomach until I was a puddle of frustrated tears.
“Luca,” I moaned, digging my nails into my palms, probably scarring myself.
“Mmmm,” he grunted, kissing the edge of my underwear. “What a shame I can’t get past these.” He pulled the elastic against me before pressing kisses all across the waistband.
“Luca,” I cried. “Luca.”
“I promised not to take these off,” he said and then pressed his lips to my practically transparent underwear. It felt no different to the brush of his thumb but I was gasping, ready to clamp my thighs around his head and keep him prisoner.
Take them off. Take them off. Take them off.
He stood over me, grabbed my thighs and dragged me to the end of the bed.
“Have you got any lube?”
I blinked, sitting up on my elbows. “Wha—?”
But he was taking off his top, leaving me at a complete loss for words. Damn him. His abs were enough to turn anyone’s thoughts to jelly and become pure animal instinct.
“Don’t worry,” he said and started to fist his cock with one hand and rub against me with the other. “You’re ready.”
For what?
“Lu-cahh.” I had intended to question him, not gasp his name when he did something to my clit, stimulating it in a way that made me gasp and pant. What the fuck was he doing? I tried to lift my head to look over at him, but my body was molten and, within seconds, I was coming undone. Wave after wave hit me as I clawed at his arms, whimpering and crying as tears sprang from my eyes.
A jolt hit me as he pressed his cock to my drenched underwear. He tapped it harshly against my clit and I let out a moan, intensely sensitive.
“If you touch yourself, I stop.” He looked down at me with narrowed eyes. “If you touch me, I stop. If you wriggle away, I stop. If you say stop, I stop.”
My head was shaking aggressively. Nope. None of the above.
He held his cock to my panties and thrust into his hand, brushing against my clit with each stroke. I panted as he picked up the pace, building and building the tension with the friction of the cotton between us.
The one physical barrier. I wanted to rip them to shreds.
How did this feel so good? It had to be a mental trick. His fingers had been one thing, but this… this was something else.
And I was almost embarrassed at how much I was writhing, rocking my hips into him, lifting myself at an angle for him to brush —shit. Oh shit.
That was where I needed him.
But on my bare skin.
He’d dip his cock from my clit to edge my entrance, pushing my thong almost into me. I melted further into the mattress with every dirty push that we both knew was forbidden.
And so fucking tempting.
But nothing felt as good as the smooth head of his cock against my clit. Even though it wasn’t skin-to-skin.
“My hand,” I begged. “I want to hold your cock. I want to touch you.”
He was over me in the minute, still sliding on top of me. His eyes were inches above mine, consuming all of my hazy view. “No.”
My groan was half-frustration, half-pleasure as his pace picked up again.
