Page 50 of Love Me
I bit my lip, but as I stared at him, I cracked, and I started laughing.
Smiling, Keelan’s eyes dropped to my chest. “I take it back. You can laugh as much as you want.”
I threw my arms over my shaking breasts.
He pouted like a child who’d gotten his favorite toy taken away.
Rolling my eyes, I leaned forward and kissed him. “I love all of you, too. Even your obsession with my boobs.”
He kissed me back and things quickly went from sweet and tender to hot and aching.
“You have two options,” he said. “We can take this to the bedroom and there, I’ll make love to you. Or I’ll fuck you on this chair, and though I’ll do it with love, it will be filthy, and it will be rough.”
Smiling, I answered with, “I’ve never had sex on a chair.”
He smiled back. “Stand up.”
I climbed off his lap, and he wasted no time unbuttoning my jean shorts. He pulled them, along with my underwear, down my legs slowly, revealing my sex to himself like a present. He sure stared at it as if it was a gift he always wanted.
I helped him out of his shirt, careful of his shoulder as I did. Lifting his hips, he shimmied out of his pants and boxers. Our clothes littered the floor around us.
I stood in front of him and let him stare at me. “What are you thinking about?” I asked.
“All the things I want to do to you.”
“What things?”
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
I nodded and stepped toward him, intending to climb onto his lap.
He caught me by my hips. “Turn around.”
I did, giving him my back. Guiding me by my hips, he pulled me into his lap, my wet core landing right on top of his hard length. He groaned, grinding his shaft against me. “Already soaked for me.” His hands glided over the tops of my thighs until he reached my knees. “Open your legs.” I let him spread me open wide. “Lie back.”
As soon as I rested my head on his good shoulder, his hands began running all over me—my stomach, my ribs, along my sternum between my breasts. He guided my arms over my head and around his neck, then ran the backs of his hands along the undersides of my upper arms and down the sides of my breasts. He touched me everywhere but the places I wanted him to touch me most.
“Look at you,” he said. With me lying against him, he had a direct view down the front of my body.
His fingers began to draw circles on my stomach, moving lower and lower before veering off toward my thigh.
Squirming, I begged, “Touch me.”
He chuckled as he ran one finger across my pelvis, inches from where I was pulsing, to the top of my other thigh. “So impatient.”
“You’re teasing me. Why?”
His lips trailed along my neck, his tongue tasting my skin as he did. “Because I love watching you squirm for me.” His fingers did agonizingly slow swirls back toward my center of my pelvis. “Because I want your pussy aching for me.”
My hips bucked when his fingers stopped centimeters above my pulsing clit.
I felt his lips stretch into a smile against my jaw. “Because I love it when you beg for me.”
“Please, please touch me,” I begged, giving him what he wanted and hoping in return he’d give me what I wanted.
“Good girl,” he whispered, and his fingers dove between my legs.
My body arched as he found my clit. He rubbed it gently and slowly. The worst combination when it came to that little spot.
