moaned involuntarily, he snuck in. My body couldn’t fight him anymore, didn’t want to fight him. My mind was quickly ticking through all the reasons kissing Preston was the worst mistake I could make in that moment, but rather quickly, as his hands began to slide up my sides, barely brushing the edge of my breasts, the reasons I shouldn’t kiss him morphed into the reasons I never wanted to stop.
When he felt me give in to him, something else inside him snapped, and the kiss went even deeper. His tongue swiped through my mouth and my tongue was desperate to find his. His hands found the sides of my face, angling me perfectly to take even more from me.
Good God.
The man could kiss.
My hands slid up the front of him, running into the buttons of his tux jacket. I undid the buttons and pushed his coat aside, only to encounter the vest, which I hastily unbuttoned as well. Finally, only the thin layer of his dress shirt was between my hands and his chest and I could feel every ripple of muscle the man was hiding. Muscles I’d been imagining every day since I first met him in that bar. I clutched his shirt, my back arching, trying to get as close to him as possible.
As he kissed me, he unleashed a growl and my reaction was instinct. I moaned as wetness pooled between my legs and my hands shook with anticipation. His left hand moved to the back of my neck, keeping my mouth pressed firmly against his, while his right hand slid down my front, over my breast. His hand cupped my lace-covered breast, his thumb pressing gently over my nipple, so hard he could no doubt feel it through my dress.
I moaned again, louder this time, causing our mouths to break apart. My eyes closed and my head rolled back, unable to focus on anything besides sensation. His thumb and forefinger tugged on my nipple through my dress and I mewled again, my clit pulsing, begging for contact. I felt his mouth between my breasts, licking the valley there, as his hand moved lower.
“Preston,” I moaned. I knew we shouldn’t continue, knew I should push him away, but the rational part of my brain was being held hostage by the part that wanted to fuck him in this room. Wanted to feel him inside of me, wanted all of him, and there was no reasoning with this part. I didn’t even try.
“Be quiet, sweetheart,” he whispered, the anger gone from his voice. He sounded softer but still gruff. He sounded like he was aroused, and hearing his voice like that, calling me sweetheart, catapulted me into another stratosphere. His mouth left my cleavage and I felt him move lower, my eyes moving to watch him crouch to the ground. As he slid down, his hands grazed down the sides of me, leaving trails of electricity and sparks behind. Everywhere he touched me turned to fire.
When his face aligned with the part of me pulsing and throbbing, I silently begged him to put his mouth on me. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel his tongue slide through me. Instead, his eyes moved back to mine and he spoke.
“In another place, in another time, I’d bury my face in you so fast, my only goal to make you scream my name. But not tonight, Lena.” With those breathtaking words, his hands softly started at my knees and then moved to the back of my thighs, sliding up and over my ass, then stopped at the top of my panties. I gasped when he pulled them gently down my legs, stopping at my ankles. “Lift.”
Without giving it much thought, I raised one foot, watching him carefully maneuver the lacy, beige thong around the high heels, then he gently tapped my other ankle and we repeated the process. He stood slowly, my panties in his hand, and gave me a sexy, sultry smile. I was still lightly panting, my body not used to being this revved up. Then my breath stopped completely when he placed my panties in the front breast pocket of his tuxedo jacket.
“Now these belong to me, too.”
“Preston,” I started, only
When he felt me give in to him, something else inside him snapped, and the kiss went even deeper. His tongue swiped through my mouth and my tongue was desperate to find his. His hands found the sides of my face, angling me perfectly to take even more from me.
Good God.
The man could kiss.
My hands slid up the front of him, running into the buttons of his tux jacket. I undid the buttons and pushed his coat aside, only to encounter the vest, which I hastily unbuttoned as well. Finally, only the thin layer of his dress shirt was between my hands and his chest and I could feel every ripple of muscle the man was hiding. Muscles I’d been imagining every day since I first met him in that bar. I clutched his shirt, my back arching, trying to get as close to him as possible.
As he kissed me, he unleashed a growl and my reaction was instinct. I moaned as wetness pooled between my legs and my hands shook with anticipation. His left hand moved to the back of my neck, keeping my mouth pressed firmly against his, while his right hand slid down my front, over my breast. His hand cupped my lace-covered breast, his thumb pressing gently over my nipple, so hard he could no doubt feel it through my dress.
I moaned again, louder this time, causing our mouths to break apart. My eyes closed and my head rolled back, unable to focus on anything besides sensation. His thumb and forefinger tugged on my nipple through my dress and I mewled again, my clit pulsing, begging for contact. I felt his mouth between my breasts, licking the valley there, as his hand moved lower.
“Preston,” I moaned. I knew we shouldn’t continue, knew I should push him away, but the rational part of my brain was being held hostage by the part that wanted to fuck him in this room. Wanted to feel him inside of me, wanted all of him, and there was no reasoning with this part. I didn’t even try.
“Be quiet, sweetheart,” he whispered, the anger gone from his voice. He sounded softer but still gruff. He sounded like he was aroused, and hearing his voice like that, calling me sweetheart, catapulted me into another stratosphere. His mouth left my cleavage and I felt him move lower, my eyes moving to watch him crouch to the ground. As he slid down, his hands grazed down the sides of me, leaving trails of electricity and sparks behind. Everywhere he touched me turned to fire.
When his face aligned with the part of me pulsing and throbbing, I silently begged him to put his mouth on me. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel his tongue slide through me. Instead, his eyes moved back to mine and he spoke.
“In another place, in another time, I’d bury my face in you so fast, my only goal to make you scream my name. But not tonight, Lena.” With those breathtaking words, his hands softly started at my knees and then moved to the back of my thighs, sliding up and over my ass, then stopped at the top of my panties. I gasped when he pulled them gently down my legs, stopping at my ankles. “Lift.”
Without giving it much thought, I raised one foot, watching him carefully maneuver the lacy, beige thong around the high heels, then he gently tapped my other ankle and we repeated the process. He stood slowly, my panties in his hand, and gave me a sexy, sultry smile. I was still lightly panting, my body not used to being this revved up. Then my breath stopped completely when he placed my panties in the front breast pocket of his tuxedo jacket.
“Now these belong to me, too.”
“Preston,” I started, only
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