Page 94 of Stolen Kiss

I looked back and took in her dark eyes with my own. “Beg me for it, my sweet girl,” I said.

Flames ignited her eyes. “What?”

I smirked. “Beg me for it. Make it good, and maybe I’ll let you come.”

She grabbed my hair and pulled. “In your fucking dreams.”

I laughed. Didn’t she know the pain only spurred me on?

I moved my hands down the hem of her shirt—the shirt I had given her to wear last night—and slowly lifted it up. I gave her a chance to voice her protest, but she remained quiet. Just looked at me with dark eyes, flushed cheeks, and broken breath.

I took the shirt off her and threw it somewhere behind me before I took in her pretty little breasts and flat stomach.

Emilia always had an unbelievably perfect body. That was still the case; though she wasn’t as toned as she had been three years ago, which was understandable, she was still pretty lean.

An image of a swollen-bellied Emilia came to mind, and my cock twitched with want. What would a pregnant Emilia be like? A part of me wanted that. Wanted it so bad, I almost wished the condom would break.

I shook away the thought. I wasn’t being rational, but fuck if I didn’t want more children with her.

I wanted everything with her.

“What are you waiting for?” she breathed.

I shook my head. “Nothing, sweetheart.”

I leaned closer to her, taking a better look at her perfect tits.

Perky tits with hardened pink nipples.

My mouth watered at the sight.

I clasped one in my hand, pinching her nipple before pulling on it.

She grabbed my wrist, but she didn’t push me away. Instead, she held it there, holding still, as if anticipating my next move. I flicked the erect nub, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“Beg me, pretty girl.”

She stubbornly shook her head.

I leaned down and took the other, neglected nipple into my mouth, sucking on it.

Her head fell back as she closed her eyes and let out a small whimper.

I drew more of the supple flesh in my mouth, rolling the nipple between my teeth before sucking on it once more.

“Jensen,” she moaned. “Don’t stop.”

I pulled away. She threw her hands up in frustration.

“Beg me,” I said, this time in a whisper.

“Fuck me, please,” she said, and it seemed like the words were being extracted out of her. I would have smiled if I wasn’t so fucking hard.

I unfastened the button on her jeans and pulled down the zipper. The back of my palm brushed up against her mound, and she pressed her hands on my shoulders, as if trying to keep herself balanced.

I helped her out of the jeans, throwing them in the same direction as her discarded shirt.

She was in nothing but her panties now.

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