In seconds, I’m bucking against him, and one of his hands closes over my lower abdomen to hold me down while the other slides between us. He continues to use his tongue in the most incredible ways when he slides his fingers inside me, and my vision starts to sparkle.
His body constricts against mine while he tries to keep his hold on me as I squirm and writhe beneath him. Pulling his mouth away, he starts laying gentle kisses along my thighs while he continues to stroke inside me.
“That’s it, baby. Just like that. Fucking come for me, Chels. Let yourself go and come for me.” There’s a rawness to his voice that I’ve never heard before, and it’s the biggest turn on of my life.
On top of the best foreplay I’ve ever experienced, it takes him one last stroke while my back arches, and I come harder than I ever have.
My spine hits the mattress, and my chest heaves while my vision wavers and my whole body tingles.
“That was so Goddamn sexy, baby. Oh, such a good girl, coming for me like that.” Who is this man? Wes is sexy beyond belief, but these words, the timber of his voice. It’s so unexpected. He’s such a lighthearted, carefree guy. Always quick with the jokes and defusing the tension.
But this? I could get used to this.
He’s already kissing his way up my body, his fingers hooking under the hem of my panties and pulling them down before one arm loops under my waist and lifts while the other unhooks my bra.
In two seconds, I’m fully exposed to him. It’s almost like a choreographed dance that we’ve practiced a dozen times with how seamlessly he just removed my clothes. It makes thoughts of Wes with others start to invade my mind, but I quickly shake them away as I notice he’s removing his boxers.
I have to bite my lip as desire scorches through. He’s going to feel incredible. I reach out to touch him, to grasp him in my hand, but he stops me, trapping my wrists in his hold against the mattress, high above my head.
“Mm, mm. Nope. Not this time.”
“I want to feel you, Wes.” More like need to.
“Oh, trust me, you will.”
He adjusts his grip so that only one hand holds me in place. With the other hand, he takes the condom, tears the wrapper with his teeth, and rolls it on, giving himself a few slow strokes while his gaze devours my body.
Slowly, he lowers himself on top of me, barely resting his weight against me, as he lines himself up. His eyes meet mine one last time, and a question dances in his eyes.
“Yes. Wes, yes.” Somehow, through this strange connection we have, I know what he’s asking without him needing to voice it.
Without any delay, he eases himself into me, and once he’s all the way inside, his breath rushes out, and he rests his forehead against the pillow next to me.
“Fuck, Chelsea. Holy…just…fuck.” I would echo his words if I could talk at all.
My arms are still above my head, and with his free hand, he runs his thumb across my lip before pulling it down and closing his mouth over mine, his hand gliding down my body, fingers tweaking at my hardened nipple on their descent.
Pushing my hands into the mattress, he starts moving in and out of me, slowly at first, getting a feel for me, for us, letting me get used to him.
He just gets into a groove of thrusting when a bang outside the door pulls our attention away and he slows.
“Maybe we shoulda put a sock on the door.”
My attention draws back to him immediately. His distraction loosened his grip on my wrists, and I use the opportunity to free myself and wrap my arms around his shoulders, one hand gliding into his hair. The second my hands are free, his eyes lock on my mine, and his lips pull down in one corner.
“They won’t be back tonight, Wes.”
“Fuck, I don’t know if I care.” And with that, he slams his mouth back on mine and starts moving hard and fast.
When my head tips back with a moan, his lips latch onto my throat as he sucks and bites my sensitive skin. It’s a good thing I’m a master at makeup because I’ll surely have a hickey.
A dozen different noises start to leave our bodies, and the sound of skin on skin mingles in with them. When I start to have trouble controlling the decibel level of my voice, I move to put a pillow of my face, but Wes grabs it and throws it across the room in one swift move, thrusting harder, almost punishingly in the most delicious way, as he does so.
“No, baby. Let them hear. Let the whole world hear you. But especially me. Tell me how much you like it.”
“Fuck, Wes. So much.”
“You know that’s not what I want, Chels. Loud. I want to hearexactlyhow much you like it. Nice and loud.”