Every Little Thing
Page 35

His eyes flared in satisfaction.
Then he brushed his fingers over my underwear, my very damp underwear, and his free hand curled into the sheets in reaction. “Jesus,” he groaned, watching me as he rubbed the fabric against my clit.
Electric tingles moved through me and I lifted my hips into his touch.
“You are so fucking beautiful.” His fingers slipped under my panties and slid into me. My inner muscles clamped around him in desperate need. Vaughn groaned even harder. “You feel beautiful, too.”
“Fuck me, Vaughn.” The raw plea fell easily, naturally from my lips.
He gave me an arrogant grin. “In my own time.”
His fingers slid out of me, only to curl around my underwear. Slowly, torturously slowly, he pulled them down my legs. And then for an even longer, torturously slow moment he just looked at me.
“You want the truth, princess?” His voice was deep, gruff. “I’ve wanted you from the moment we met.”
Exultation pulsed through me and I shifted restlessly on the bed.
“I’ve wanted you just like this. That smart mouth of yours sweet. That sexy body of yours mine to do with as I please. And I don’t like wanting something I can’t have.”
But you can have me! I wanted to yell in frustration. Take me already!
But I’d promised him control.
“Be prepared to get a taste of what I’ve had to endure watching your fine ass walk up and down my boardwalk.”
“Your boardwalk?”
Damn.
He got me.
Vaughn grinned. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Not your boardwalk, Tremaine,” I whispered, itching to pull him toward me. “But in here, right now, this fine ass is yours for the taking.”
His mood seemed to change, and I waited breathlessly as he straddled me, gently taking each of my wrists in his hands and pinning them to the mattress at either side of my head. I felt overwhelmed by him, and I had to relax against the urge to push up against him. He bent his head to mine, and that spicy, earthy scent of his rushed over me, sending a new set of tingles straight to my nipples.
“Never change, Bailey Hartwell,” he murmured, and then he kissed me. His tongue pushed between my lips and slid over mine, dancing with it in a dirty, deep, wet kiss. My hips pulsed toward him at the feel of his hard cock rubbing against my belly.
And then he was gone, taking his mouth from mine as his grip on my wrists loosened. His fingers trailed teasingly down the soft skin of my inner arm, under my arms, and down the sides of my breasts as he stopped to pay attention to them.
“I’ve fantasized about what your tits looked like.” He smiled up at me from under those long dark lashes of his. “Reality beats fantasy any day.”
“What else have you fantasized about?”
His eyes narrowed, that smile turning to a sexy smirk. “Many things. Involving your gorgeous tits? Sucking them, licking those pretty nipples of yours.” A dark heat entered his expression. “Coming on them.”
A pulse of lust slammed through me and my lower belly rippled. “Vaughn,” I gasped, my cheeks flushed with need.
He positioned his erection between my legs and pressed. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, his teeth clenching. “You like that thought,” he gritted out.
When I didn’t answer he opened his eyes and thrust against me, sending a streak of want through me. “You like that?” he demanded. “You want it?”
“Yes, I want it,” I huffed, frustrated, tortured!
He grinned. “My dirty little princess. Who knew?”
This time I laughed at his teasing. “Not me.”
I felt the rumble of his own laughter and then I felt nothing but the heat of his mouth as he wrapped it around my left nipple and sucked.
Hard.
My body writhed, bucking off the bed, and I gripped the sheets in my hands to stop myself from reaching for him, from taking back control.
“You can touch me,” he whispered across my nipple. “I want you to. Just remember I’m in charge.”
As he turned his attention to my other breast I moved my hands to his shoulders, stroking his hot, smooth skin, and then I curled my fingers tightly into his soft dark hair as he tormented my nipples until they were swollen, almost painful buds. Until I was so ready to come it wasn’t even funny.
“Vaughn,” I begged, tugging hard on his hair.
He reached for my hands, gripped my wrists, and slammed them back above my head. “If you can’t play nice . . .” he warned.
And then his lips were moving down my stomach, his tongue licking my belly button, before moving south. My lower belly rippled in a mini-orgasm as his mouth neared closer to where I wanted it the most.
My legs fell open, inviting him in, and I heard his grunt of satisfaction seconds before his tongue touched my clit.
Need slammed through me and my hips pushed into his mouth. He gripped them, pressing them back to the mattress, and then he truly began his torture.
He suckled my clit, pulling on it hard, and he listened to my body. He listened to my harsh, shallow breaths; he studied the undulations of my hips; and just when I was about to come, he stopped.
I cried out in frustration. “Please.”
His grip on my hips became almost bruising.
And then his tongue was back, this time licking inside me. I writhed because it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
Hearing my whimpers, Vaughn returned to my clit, let go of my left hip, and gently pushed two fingers inside of me.