hesitant. Something feels … off, though I can’t figure out what it is.
Then again, Ophelia must not be feeling the same trepidation, because she tilts her head up and answers, “Yeah,” to my earlier question, right before she makes the move I’ve been dying to make since the moment I first saw her. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and presses her gorgeous, perfect lips to mine.
Thank God.
It’s just a soft touch, her lips brushing over mine in a kiss as light as an early wintersnowflake. Once, twice, then again and again until I feel like I’ll go crazy if I can’t touch her. If I can’t tilt her head back and thrust my tongue deep inside the recesses of her mouth. If I can’t pull her against me and feel her slick heat against my cock.
Though it kills me, I keep my hands clenched at my side and my lips gentle against hers. She started this. It’s only fair to let her lead for a few minutes so I can find out exactly where she wants this thing to go.
It’s a good plan, and it probably would have worked, too, except the seventh or eighth time her mouth brushes my own, she makes a low, needy sound deep in her throat. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, and it shatters the stranglehold I’ve kept on my control from the moment she invited me in.
My hands come up of their own volition, my fingers tangling in her long, silky hair as I tilt her head to the side for better access. Then it’s my turn to take charge of the kiss. My turn to show her everything I want to do to her.
I run my tongue along the seam of her lips, licking softly, tenderly, toying with the perfect bow of her upper lip until she gasps and opens for me. I nip at her lower lip then, tugging gently at it with my teeth. She moans a little, her hand coming up to twist in my shirt, and that’s when I slip inside her, my tongue gliding between her lips and her teeth to play with her frenulum, the sensitive bit of skin that connects her upper lip to her gum.
She moans again, and this time the sound shoots straight through me. My cock, already hard, starts to throb in time with the blood roaring in my ears. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to strip her naked, press her up against the nearest wall, and fuck her until we’re both senseless with pleasure.
But Ophelia’s not that kind of girl. From the moment she dumped that drink on me, I knew she was different. That she’d require more than my usual fuck-and-run. It’s why I walked away from her that first night. And why I made that stupid bet, so I’d have an excuse to see her again when every instinct I have is shouting at me to stay as far away from her as I can.
That’s not going to happen, though. Not tonight, when she tastes like peaches and vanilla and sweet, delicious cream.
Not tonight, when she’s offering herself so fucking sweetly.
And definitely not tonight, when she’s holding on to me like she’d fall if I wasn’t here to support her.
Tilting her head back even more, I delve deep. I sweep my tongue over the back of her teeth before licking along the roof of her mouth and sliding it against and over and under her own. She tastes so good, feels so good, that I could do this for hours even if it means suffering the worst case of blue balls in history.
But Ophelia has other ideas. Her hands slide down my chest to my stomach, and thenshe’s tugging at my shirt, breaking our kiss only long enough to pull the thing over my head. Then she’s flinging it across the room even as she leans into me, her mouth picking up exactly where we left off. Only this time her eyes are open and I can’t help staring into the verdant depths of them. Here, now, they’re forest green, like the needles of the pine trees that make up so much of the landscape around here. They’re dark and mysterious and sexy as hell, and I want to spend the night staring into them as I make love to her, watching their color change as I kiss and lick and touch her.
Because Ophelia has
Then again, Ophelia must not be feeling the same trepidation, because she tilts her head up and answers, “Yeah,” to my earlier question, right before she makes the move I’ve been dying to make since the moment I first saw her. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and presses her gorgeous, perfect lips to mine.
Thank God.
It’s just a soft touch, her lips brushing over mine in a kiss as light as an early wintersnowflake. Once, twice, then again and again until I feel like I’ll go crazy if I can’t touch her. If I can’t tilt her head back and thrust my tongue deep inside the recesses of her mouth. If I can’t pull her against me and feel her slick heat against my cock.
Though it kills me, I keep my hands clenched at my side and my lips gentle against hers. She started this. It’s only fair to let her lead for a few minutes so I can find out exactly where she wants this thing to go.
It’s a good plan, and it probably would have worked, too, except the seventh or eighth time her mouth brushes my own, she makes a low, needy sound deep in her throat. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, and it shatters the stranglehold I’ve kept on my control from the moment she invited me in.
My hands come up of their own volition, my fingers tangling in her long, silky hair as I tilt her head to the side for better access. Then it’s my turn to take charge of the kiss. My turn to show her everything I want to do to her.
I run my tongue along the seam of her lips, licking softly, tenderly, toying with the perfect bow of her upper lip until she gasps and opens for me. I nip at her lower lip then, tugging gently at it with my teeth. She moans a little, her hand coming up to twist in my shirt, and that’s when I slip inside her, my tongue gliding between her lips and her teeth to play with her frenulum, the sensitive bit of skin that connects her upper lip to her gum.
She moans again, and this time the sound shoots straight through me. My cock, already hard, starts to throb in time with the blood roaring in my ears. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to strip her naked, press her up against the nearest wall, and fuck her until we’re both senseless with pleasure.
But Ophelia’s not that kind of girl. From the moment she dumped that drink on me, I knew she was different. That she’d require more than my usual fuck-and-run. It’s why I walked away from her that first night. And why I made that stupid bet, so I’d have an excuse to see her again when every instinct I have is shouting at me to stay as far away from her as I can.
That’s not going to happen, though. Not tonight, when she tastes like peaches and vanilla and sweet, delicious cream.
Not tonight, when she’s offering herself so fucking sweetly.
And definitely not tonight, when she’s holding on to me like she’d fall if I wasn’t here to support her.
Tilting her head back even more, I delve deep. I sweep my tongue over the back of her teeth before licking along the roof of her mouth and sliding it against and over and under her own. She tastes so good, feels so good, that I could do this for hours even if it means suffering the worst case of blue balls in history.
But Ophelia has other ideas. Her hands slide down my chest to my stomach, and thenshe’s tugging at my shirt, breaking our kiss only long enough to pull the thing over my head. Then she’s flinging it across the room even as she leans into me, her mouth picking up exactly where we left off. Only this time her eyes are open and I can’t help staring into the verdant depths of them. Here, now, they’re forest green, like the needles of the pine trees that make up so much of the landscape around here. They’re dark and mysterious and sexy as hell, and I want to spend the night staring into them as I make love to her, watching their color change as I kiss and lick and touch her.
Because Ophelia has
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