Page 67 of Chasing Lyric
My fingers find the button of his pants and work quickly, the fabric giving way under my touch just as he shucks off his jacket and lets it drop to the floor with mine. There’s nothing graceful about our urgency. We’re like teenagers fumbling with anticipation, desperate to touch, to strip away the layers separating skin from skin.
His pants loosen, sliding lower on his hips, and I grab hold of the waistband, tugging them down over that sinful ass I’ve been eyeing for days. They pool around his ankles as I reach for the tiny, infuriating buttons of his shirt, cursing softly under my breath when they don’t come undone easily.
And how could I focus when his hands are skimming the edge of my tank top, sliding up under the hem, his palms warm and greedy on my skin? My body responds immediately, my clit throbbing, my core aching, as I abandon the shirt buttons and raise my arms, letting him lift my tank up and off. Our lips break apart only for a second, gasping in tandem as his gaze drops.
His stare scorches me.
I feel it everywhere.
My lacy white bra offers little coverage and even less modesty.
But I don’t care.
Not when he looks at me like this.
Like he’sstarving.
There’s no mistaking the tenting of his briefs, the visible proof of just how much he wants me.
Chase licks his lips, his hands returning to my waist as he pulls me to him. His kiss lands hard and deep, flooding my bloodstream with heat while his mouth devours mine with unrelenting hunger. He’s matching me beat for beat, desire vibrating between us like a live current.
I reach for his buttons again, determined this time.
I need this off.
I need all of him.
He beats me to it, fingers moving to the waistband of my jeans, unfastening them before sliding them down over my hips. The denim clings stubbornly to my thighs, but we manage to free them, along with my flats. I’m left in nothing but the pale lace of my bra and aqua panties, mismatched, and I suddenly wish they weren’t. But when his eyes land on the bright pop of color, he breaks into a grin that sends a shiver down my spine.
His fingers trace the edge of the lace, his voice low and gravelly. “I like these,” he murmurs, then presses another kiss to my lips, deeper this time, more deliberate. The next second, he tugs the panties down my thighs with a little more force than necessary, and I gasp, but not from pain, from surprise. From the thrill ofhim.
I laugh lightly at his enthusiasm, but then he does something unexpected. He taps my foot, and I step out of my panties, then he scoops them from the floor, balls them into his hand, and slips them into his shirt pocket. “I’m keeping these,” he says, before finally peeling the shirt from his shoulders and tossing it to the floor, leaving only his boxer briefs between us.
The intensity in his gaze darkens further as it drops to where I’m exposed. His hand travels the curve of my thigh, fingers brushing upward, seeking. The other hand glides along my spine, unfastening my bra with maddening ease. The straps fall, and so does the garment, floating to the floor just as his fingers find me.
He strokes softly at first, a single slide over my clit that pulls a moan from my throat. My eyes flutter closed at the sensation, the tension coiling so fast it steals my breath. His hand is warm, sure, confident as he presses in, and I gasp again when a finger slips inside me, slow and deliberate.
“This…” he murmurs as he leans in, lips brushing my ear. “This belongs to me, Lyri.”
I would give him anything in this moment. With his hand between my legs and his mouth against my skin, I’d agree to anything he asked. “Yours,” I whisper without hesitation.
But that’s not enough for him. “Don’t say it just because I’m working you up. Look at me,” he growls, his voice laced with rough demand.
My eyes snap open, locking with his. That deep, muscari-blue holds mine, full of heat and challenge. Then he presses firmer, circling slow and tight over my clit, and my breath catches on a sob of pleasure. “Tell me,” he says again.
My nails dig into his arms, trying to ground myself. I feel like I’m untethered, floating in some bliss-soaked haze. His touch never stops, his fingers coaxing me higher and higher until I am about to combust. I can barely speak, but I find the strength to give him what he needs. “I belong to you, Chase,” I pant, voice trembling, eyes still on his.
The sound he makes is part groan, part growl, primal and low in his throat. His hand never relents, circling harder, faster, until my legs begin to tremble beneath me.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful when you’re panting for me.” His lips come down, capturing my moan while he works harder, faster, circling again and again until I see flashes of light behind my closed eyes. My body breaks out into a cold sweat as I gasp for breath, which I just can’t seem to catch.
I’m right on the edge.
Right on the precipice.
My entire body feels taut, wound, on the edge of something violent and exquisite. Chase breaks our kiss, his mouth moving to my ear, tugging hard with his teeth at the same time, and he flicks my clit with just the right pressure.
My entire body explodes with the most amazing sensations wracking right through my very being. My muscles contract, then release into a shattering orgasm that rips through me like lightning, my muscles convulsing as heat crashes over me in violent waves. My legs give way completely, but Chase is ready. He catches me, easing me back until I feel the mattress beneath me.
