Are you Ready for This?

ALTHEA

“There’ll be no one to hear you cry out tonight,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the skin of my throat. “No one but me.”

His teeth graze my neck, and a shiver rolls down my spine. His hand cups me boldly over my jeans, the heat of his touch igniting something wild and reckless inside me.

The journey to the bed is a blur of heat and urgency, his hands and mouth leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he finally lowers me onto the soft mattress, I’m trembling, caught between desire and the faintest flicker of fear.

His hand reaches out, his thumb sweeping along my bottom lip. Pulling it down, away from my teeth, letting it plop back in place. It’s delicate, the way his hand then caresses my jaw, reaching behind my neck as his voice softens, “Lay back.”

I obey the soft command without preamble, eyes meeting the ceiling as my back hits the bed. A dip forms beside my ribs, where his palm sinks into the mattress as he hovers over me. The other traces up my denim clad thighs, slow over my hips, as he pops the top button out of place.

Butterflies take flight, disrupting my insides as his caress continues up my bare stomach, his rough hand makes it feel a lot better than it should. And then his grip closes over one bra cup, squeezing firmly.

Not even a second later, he folds down the cup and takes one swollen bud into his mouth. Our bodies merge as my spine curves upward, pleasure coalescing inside me like molten lava. The hot pressure is all I can process, every other notion slammed shut behind a wall of lust.

He sucks greedily, but it’s over too soon, before I can loose myself in it. And I blink my eyes open in confusion, just as he pulls away. The disappointment slowly fades though, giving way to anticipation as he pinches my jeans and the band of my thong together, pulling the fabrics down and off my legs in one fluid motion.

Cold air hits my bare flesh, and that’s when the daunting reservation rears it’s ugly head. The lighting is low, but bright enough to enhance every dip and imperfection. I should know better than to let my insecurities get the best of me. Especially here with a man I don’t know and will most likely never see again.

There’s no argument he’s a well experienced male, no less with women eager and just as well bred to give him the type of pleasure he wants.

I pale in comparison.

“You’re nervous.”

I school my features instantly, like it might have been what gave me away. All he does is give his head a slow shake, eyes trailing down my exposed flesh, “We’ll go slow.”

Call me naive, or way too trusting. But those three words, and the way he says them, are enough to slacken my shoulders.

So he’s not out to destroy my insides… that’s a plus. Of their own volition, my eyes drop right below his belt, over his crotch.

Not out to, doesn’t mean he won’t, if the semi tent in his pants is anything to go by.

One blink and broad shoulders fill the span of my vision as his body settles over mine. His palm slides under my back, and with just one twist of his wrist, the clasp is undone.

Really well experienced.

He pulls the slinky material from my body, loosing it in the darkness as he flings it over his shoulder. As soon as the cool air touches my bare flesh, he warms them with his large hands. I whimper at the friction, and then his body comes down on mine once again. But this time, his knees push my thighs apart, till every hard, enormous inch of him is nestled in the space between them.

A heady rush fills my veins.

He’s still dressed to the nines, but I’m a naked, wanton mess beneath him. And I fall harder into the deep end of desire when his mouth crashes down on mine.

Every hot pull feels like a warning, a threat, a preparation of what’s to come. Because if he fucks anything like he kisses me, then I might just need a little support making it out this bed, much less going to the palace.

His tongue delves into my mouth with a harsh groan, and my hands grab onto his shoulders, digging into the hardened flesh for something to hold on to.

It’s just a kiss, dammit.

A gasp breaks free, just as the fabric of his dress shirt drags across my nipples. They harden into solid points, begging for more, more, more. And I’m far from disappointed when he slips his hands between us, his thumbs and forefingers tugging on each tip.

A pulse forms in my clit, it’s throb so fast and maddening.

My thighs wrap around his waist as he rocks himself against my core, my mouth falling open on a breathless cry.

There’s no way the front of his slacks aren’t soaked, and just then he groans out, “So wet for me.”