Page 223 of Love Me Stalk Me
I shove at his shoulders, pushing against solid muscle, trying to create space. His head lifts immediately, eyes burning into mine, questioning, and concerned. Despite his obvious desire, there's an alertness there, a readiness to stop if that's what I want.
"Cal," I pant, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears. "Please—I want to feel you."
"You are feeling me." His voice is strained, tight with desire, with the effort of restraint.
I shake my head, my hand wrapping around his wrist, stilling his movements. His fingers twitch inside me at the restriction, making me gasp, making my inner walls clench around him.
"No," I breathe, the word almost a plea. "I want your cock."
A visible shudder runs through him, his breath catching audibly in his throat. His fingers twitch inside me again, pressing deeper, making me whimper.
"Not yet," he rasps, his free hand moving to drag his thumb over my clit in tight, precise circles that make my back arch, that send pleasure spiraling through me. "Let me see you come first."
I shake my head again, more insistent this time, digging my nails into his skin, leaving marks that I hope will still be there tomorrow.
"No," I argue, breathless but determined. "I want your cock."
He groans, the sound raw and desperate. His eyes trail down to where his fingers are buried inside me, watching the way my body clenches around him, the way his movements make me shiverand gasp. His hand shoots up suddenly, gripping my chin, tilting my face toward him so I have no choice but to look at him.
"Fuck, Izzy," he growls, his voice rough with need, with barely contained desire. "You know I can't say no to you."
He kisses me again, claiming my mouth with a hunger that steals my breath, that makes my head spin. He groans as he reluctantly withdraws his fingers, the loss making me whimper against his lips. I scramble forward the moment he releases me, my hands finding his waistband, tugging at it with desperate, clumsy fingers, determined to taste him.
He's so fucking hard.
So big.
When I finally get his pants open, when I wrap my hand around him, I'm almost startled by the thick, velvety weight of him pulsing against my palm. I shiver, my thighs clenching together involuntarily as I take in the size of him, the heat, the way he throbs with need in my hand. His head tips back, exposing the strong column of his throat, a low groan rumbling from his chest.
"Fucking hell."
I bite my lip, shifting onto my knees, my mouth watering as I lean forward. There's something about seeing him like this—strong, powerful Cal undone by desire, by want for me—that makes me bold, that makes me want to push him further, and see how far I can take him before he breaks completely.
"Let me taste you," I whisper, the words a barely audible plea.
He swears, the sound harsh and guttural, and then he's moving, ripping his shirt off over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside without care for where it lands. His hands find my hair, fingers threading through it, fisting at the base of my skull, controlling without hurting.
My lips part in anticipation, in silent invitation, and I take him into my mouth. A deep, guttural groan punches from his chest at the first contact, his thighs tensing beneath my hands as I hollow my cheeks, sucking him deep. The taste of him is intoxicating—salt and musk. It’s so purely Cal that makes my head spin, that makes heat pool between my legs.
Fuck.
He's so thick, stretching my lips wide, his skin hot and smooth against my tongue. I can't take all of him—he's too big, too much—but I try, relaxing my throat, taking him as deep as I can.
I glance up, curious to see his reaction, and the sight nearly undoes me.
His abs flex with each breath, every muscle in his body tight with tension and restraint. His jaw is locked, his throat working as he swallowsrepeatedly.
"Good girl," he breathes, the praise washing over me. "Just like that."
His hands tighten in my hair, guiding me, controlling me, setting a rhythm that I follow eagerly. His hips roll subtly into my mouth, not forceful, not rough, just enough to deepen the sensation, to show his pleasure, his need.
I moan around him, the vibration traveling up his length, making him curse, making his grip tighten in my hair.
"Fuck, pretty girl," he grits out, his voice strained, barely human. "You're gonna kill me."
I dig my nails into his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles jump beneath my touch. I take him deeper, swallowing around him, letting my throat constrict around the head of his cock.
His breath shudders out in a ragged exhale.
