Ian nudged my legs apart, teeth raking his plush bottom lip as he hissed, “So sweet.”
The movement inched up my sweater and bunched it at my waist.
My bare pussy was right in his face.
And I was trembling. Trembling and trembling as he looked at my nakedness as if he were being offered a gift.
He slicked a single finger through my lips, my body so wet and achy and needy that I whimpered again. “Ian. Oh God. Please.”
A dark chuckle rumbled from his massive chest. “Barely touching you, and you’re already shivering. How bad do you want me, Grace?”
He pressed two fingers into me, my walls clenching in a plea. “Why are you teasin’ me?” I whispered.
“Teasing you? I’m not teasing you, Grace. I’m just making sure you’re prepared for what I’m getting ready to do to you.”
“Ian.” It was a choked sound of surrender. My body on fire. Flames and lashes of need. A dark intensity held fast to the atmosphere, bouncing from the walls, the man the air that I was breathing.
I only sucked it down deeper when he burrowed his shoulders between my thighs and dragged one of my legs over his shoulder.
It spread me wide open.
Exposing me in a way I was sure I’d never been before.
Heart and body and soul.
All of it for him.
My fingers scraped at the wall, searching for something to grasp onto when I was certain it wouldn’t matter anyway.
I was falling.
Falling fast and hard and completely.
Crashing to the ground was going to hurt. But somehow, my spirit understood that one night with this man would be worth the pain.
Angling down, he swept his tongue through my throbbing center.
On a growl, he jerked back, those eyes flashing like a red, violent storm. “Just what I thought. A sweet, juicy plum. I want to fucking tattoo the way you taste on my tongue. Or maybe I could just taste it every damned day.”
Quivers rocked my legs, and I was having trouble standing under the impact of his words. Under the impact of his touch as he continued to drive his fingers into me.
He watched as he did it, movements sure and strong and making my mind go numb.
“Your pussy is perfect. So wet. So wet for me. Aren’t you, Angel Girl? Have you been thinking about this? Dreaming about this? Me touching you?”
I wasn’t sure I was coherent enough to give him a response.
But I was nodding, whispering, “Yes. I close my eyes, and you’re the only thing I can see. I’ve never wanted a man the way I want you.”
“I’m going to make sure I keep it that way.”
A surprised cry jetted from my mouth when he dove in, his tongue lapping and licking and sucking as his fingers drove deep.
That fire I’d been dying in was doused in gasoline.
Consuming.
Incinerating.
I knew this man would leave me nothing but ash.
He pulled his fingers free, and I was crying out in some kind of despair. He only pulled me further from the wall, angling my leg so he could lick all the way back.
Tongue circling my most private places, a gasp of shock leaving me in an unfound sort of pleasure, the man never slowing to give me time to catch up before he fucked his tongue into my pussy and then moved back to assault my clit with little bites and long, toe-curling licks.
And I was going mad. Crazed with greed and lust, begging his name.
Pleasure binding and wrapping. Gathering fast.
“Ian . . . please . . . oh God . . . I can’t take it.”
He drove those two big fingers into my body, finding me, filling me, his aura and his presence and his gravity.
My back rocked against the wall, one foot barely touching the floor.
Ian holding me up.
Consuming me in a way I’d never been consumed.
Low, growling sounds were coming from his mouth and pulsing against the sweet, sweet spot that he greedily devoured.
The man pouring out that bliss all over my body.
It sizzled through my being, nerve endings alive, until I knew I was close to bursting.
Higher and higher where I rode the sharp, blinding edge of ecstasy.
He curled his fingers and sucked.
Light burst and the most intense pleasure streaked through my body, laying siege to every cell.
Shattering.
Splintering.
Fractures of myself spilling all over that no longer belonged to me.
I floated there, where he held me in his rapture, the man keeping me there.
Floating. Falling. Flying.
Everywhere in between.
“Ian.” It was a cry. A plea. A promise that I’d never felt anything more perfect than his mouth and hands on me.
That I’d never felt so connected to a man.
That I’d never wanted anything more.
That was until the man was pushing to his feet, straightening to his full height. He watched me with those darkened eyes as he stepped away to dig a condom out of a drawer in a cabinet five feet away.
That gaze never wavered as he returned, towering over me as he shrugged out of his pants and underwear.
They dropped to his ankles, and he kicked them free of his feet.
A shiver flashed across my skin, a blister of that ferocity.
The air heaved from my lungs.
The man stood there, completely bare.
So beautiful I could barely see.
That polished exterior stripped away and revealing every rough, raw inch that had been hidden underneath.
A mystery he was quickly writing on me.
He stroked his massive length. “This . . . are you prepared for this?”
“I’m not sure I could ever fully be prepared for you.” It was a mumbled confession that climbed into the dense air.
“Do you want it?” His question was nothing but a lure because my mouth went dry, and I tried to swallow.
“I want it . . . I want you. All of you.”
Something flashed through his expression, something deep and dark, as if he couldn’t make sense of what was happening between us any more than me.
A needy gasp parted my lips when he slowly rolled on the condom.
Stepping into the space that separated us, he reached out and pulled my sweater over my head.
“Sweet,” he mumbled almost incoherently, eyes sweeping my chest, before he dipped down to make quick work of my bra and slid the straps free.
Instantly, those palms were cupping my breasts, and chills were skating in a flashfire of need. He ran his thumbs over my nipples that instantly puckered into hard, pebbled peaks.
“Fuck . . . fantasies just didn’t do you justice, Grace. What it might be like to see you like this. Bare and trembling for me. It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
Raspy pants lifted from my lungs. “I couldn’t have even hoped to imagine what being with you would be like. You are the best thing I’ve ever felt.”
His mouth fell to my ear as he continued to stroke and flick my nipples. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m just getting started.”
And God, he was about to make good on that promise.
He carved out a space for himself between my thighs, his big penis pushing between us, the head of him hitting my belly button, the juts of his harsh breaths only spurring me on more.
Desperate to feel him. All of him.
I whimpered. “Please.”
The words he released were nothing but a growl. “I’m going to fuck you, Angel. Don’t ask for it soft.”
There was no hesitation left when he hoisted me from my feet and surged into me in one mind-bending thrust.
I might have blacked out right there.
This had to be a dream.
A fantasy.
Because the feel of him shouldn’t be possible. The way he stretched and filled, so huge I was gasping and clawing and trying to adjust.
Ian stilled, his hands shaking where he held me by the outsides of my thighs, his big body pinning mine to the wall. His chest heaved, his eyes wild like he’d slammed straight into shock.
“Perfect.” His throat bobbed when he swallowed, and he seemed to struggle to gather himself. “Fuck . . . you’re perfect. Angel Girl. Angel Girl. Tell me that tonight you are mine. You’re mine.”
There was something frantic about this command.
“I’m yours. Tonight, I’m yours.”
But I knew it was so much greater than that. That I hadn’t only given him tonight. I’d given him a piece of myself.