Page 137 of Unspoken Words
Gasping, I broke the kiss, my eyes locked with his, our chests rising and falling. “What are you doing?”
“You once said I couldalwayskiss you, whenever, wherever.”
I cupped my hand over his cheek. “That was a long time ago.”
“But you’re my ever after, Ellie,” he pleaded.
Searching his eyes, I let out a sob and fisted my hand in his hair, pulling him back to my mouth. Pleasure and pain hit me at once and I realised that was Connor, that he made me feel the best and the worst and everything in between because he was everything I’d ever known. Love. Tears. Home. Hope. I’d been starved of them all, starved of him, and for four years, I’d yearned a boy and now craved the man.
Connor hoisted me into his arms, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, my back pressed against the wall, his hand braced beside my head.
He groaned, long and guttural, and held me there as his hips rocked into mine, his body hard, his erection harder.
Pleasure shot to my core, and I moaned his name, my head falling back against the wall, my breathing ragged and heavy. Connor trailed his mouth down my neck, nipping, kissing and sucking his way to my collarbone before he wrenched my blouse open.
“Fuuuuuck, Ellie,” he said, almost painfully. “I’ve missed you so much.”
He splayed his hand just below my throat and slowly dragged it down my chest to cup my breast, gently squeezing. I cried out and bucked my hips against him, needing the friction, needing the relief. But it wasn’t until he slid his finger beneath the lace of my bra, pulled it aside and took my nipple into his mouth, that both fire and ice burned every inch of my body.
“I’ve missed you too,” I breathed out. “Every day.”
He released my nipple and moved to the other one.
“On the days I wanted to and on the days I didn’t want to, I still missed you.”
His mouth found mine again, this time more aggressive, more possessive, hot, wet, salty and sweet.
“I need you, baby,” he murmured. “All of you.”
“Oh God, I need you too.”
I reached down to the buckle of his jeans, fumbling as I frantically unlatched it and took his hot, hard length into my hand. We both moaned as I clenched him then slowly dragged my hand up and down, pumping him.
Connor pushed my skirt up my thighs, yanked my panties aside, and rubbed his thumb over my clit while sliding two fingers inside.
I cried out, stars bursting behind my closed eyes.
“So fucking wet, baby.”
He slid them out again, in and out, in and out, until I was panting, my hand still on his cock, my eyes heavy with lust.
Connor stopped and held my gaze, and it was all too much.
“This is wrong,” I whimpered, my hands holding his face.
He pressed his hand over my beating heart. “Does this feel wrong to you?”
I shook my head, tears streaming down my cheeks. “No, but it is.”
“Our hearts don’t lie, baby. What’s yours telling you?”
“It’s scared.”
“And?”
I reached between us and positioned his cock between my legs, flexing my hips and pushing him inside. “And this.”
Connor matched my motion, both of us grinding into one another, my body stretching around him and holding him as if he was meant to be held by no one else but me.
