All Things Pretty (Pretty #3)(29)
Author: M. Leighton

“Cut off shorts that show every inch of those long, long legs. The ones that fit your ass almost as good as my hands would.” Sig’s slips his arm around my waist, his fingers splaying right at the top of my butt where my shirt meets my jeans. I feel his hand move briefly, shuffling material until there’s nothing but the searing heat of his palm against the naked skin of my back. “But even that’s not my very favorite.”

His face is drawing closer. Not like he’s moving toward me, but like the universe is bringing us slowly, inexorably together.

“Then what is?” I ask, his mouth so close to mine I can feel the warmth of his lips against my own.

“Your costume from the balcony of that club the other night.”

In my thrall, I’m a little bit confused. I frown slightly, admitting, “But I wasn’t wearing a costume.”

“I know,” he admits hoarsely.

And then he’s kissing me.

His lips take mine in a slow, deep assault that hits me like a drug, like he’s injected me with a mind-altering substance that turns off everything except Sig. His presence, his closeness, his touch. Nothing else exists. And I’m not very anxious for the moment that it will.

One hand cups my neck, long fingers sliding into my hair. I feel them working, moving, but I don’t notice what he’s doing until my hair falls down around my shoulders. He leans back to look at me, his eyes raking through my blonde locks in a way that matches his fingers. “God, you’re amazing like this. This is the real you, isn’t it?” asks Sig.

I nod. Because I told him I wouldn’t lie. If I’m going to answer him at all, I’ll tell him the truth. As much as I can anyway.

“This is who I see when I look at you, no matter what kind of get-up you’re wearing for Tonin. I see this. I see you.”

His hands, his words, his eyes… I can’t think. I’ve forgotten my purpose, my resolve and I can’t seem to find it. Not through the haze that he’s dragging me into. Inside it, I can only see him. Hear him. Feel him. Like I’m trapped in a vacuum that contains only Sig.

“And I can’t get enough of it,” he confesses roughly, crushing my mouth with his as he crushes my body against him.

Sig lifts me off my feet and I wind my arms around his neck to hang on. I feel weightless, drifting through the air with his arms as my only anchor, until he lays me down on something. And then I feel only him. His weight, his heat, his touch.

I’m drinking in the exotic taste of his tongue when cool air hits my skin. He pulls away for a heartbeat and then cool is replaced with fire. The hot flames of his skin kiss mine as he settles on top of me, belly to belly.

With his palms roaming my sides, teasing the edges of my breasts, his knee slips between mine, easing my legs apart. Without thinking, I open for him, groaning into the moist cavern of his mouth when his erection makes contact with the ache of my sex.

I lift my hips toward him and he grinds his into them, rotating and shifting against me, causing a delicious friction right where I need it most. His mouth moves away from mine and travels down the column of my throat to the throbbing tip of one breast. He hovers over it, breathing heavily onto the sensitive tissue, as if to torture me for a few seconds more before he gives me what I want.

But then he does. He closes his hot mouth over one nipple and sucks. Hard. I nearly come up off the bed, digging my fingers into his hair, fisting and pulling until he bites down lightly with his teeth in response.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans around my flesh. “Gimme the wildcat.”

His hands, his fingers–at my breasts, on my stomach, squeezing my butt, scraping down my legs. His lips, his tongue–worshipping my nipples, teasing my navel, searing the crease of my thigh. His touch is everywhere. He is everywhere.

One minute I was dressed, the next, there’s nothing between us except heat and want. He took away my thoughts, my intentions and replaced them with the intoxication of his desire. I’m drunk on it, high on him.

I tremble at the tickle of his hair on my belly. I shiver at the scratch of his scruff on my inner thigh. I gasp at fire of his mouth at my folds.

He doesn’t ask permission. I don’t deny him what he doesn’t ask. He simply takes what he wants. And I simply give it.

The first warm, wet scrape of his tongue over my clit bends me forward, folding me in half with an agonizing pleasure. “Oh god, Sig!”

“Talk to me, Tommi,” he says, his lips moving sensually against me. “Tell me what you like.”

He doesn’t stop to wait for me to comply; he continues his assault like he’s gaining the front lines of an enemy force, a force he means to obliterate with fire. Hot, blazing flames that lick over every inch of my skin.

“Do you like lips?” he asks, kissing me, devouring me with his lips, opening and closing, opening and closing. “Or do you like tongue?” Like the flicker of a snake, he teases my sensitive nub, causing me to shudder, before he sweeps his tongue sweetly back and forth over the area, as if in apology. I’m writhing beneath him, my head tossing back and forth, gasping, breathless, unable to answer. I can only feel. Just like he wants me to. “Or do you like teeth?” Gently, he rasps his teeth over my clit and then nibbles it, sucking it into his mouth. Pulling, tugging, rhythmically biting. “Tell me,” he whispers, his voice a dark delight as velvety as his tongue.

“Please, Sig,” is all I can manage. I don’t know what I want. I just know that I want him. All of him.

I nearly cry out when his mouth leaves me, replaced by a single, exploratory digit. He kisses his way quickly up my stomach, pausing only briefly at my breast as his finger massages me. When his lips find mine, he teases them, brushing them lightly and then skimming them with the tip of his tongue.

“Or do you want more? Something thick and deep? Something that you’ll feel when you walk tomorrow, like I’m still inside you?”

I feel something broad and smooth replace his finger. Leaning back, Sig looks down between us, drawing my eye, too. He’s rubbing the enormous head of his shaft between my folds, round and round and then down toward my opening. He pulls back, grazing his thumb over the glistening tip. “That’s all you, baby. So wet for me. So ready for my cock.”

When he touches me again with it, I let my head fall back, my hips moving against him as his eyes click back up to mine. They’re full of passion, raw and wild. “I wish I could come right here, right on top of this sweet lil pussy. Make it mine. Cover it until you’re slick with me. Just me.”