I don’t remove my panties. Fighting the urge to cover my breasts with my hands, I just stand there a few feet from Kellan, waiting for his reaction.
He takes a sharp breath and moistens his lips.
“Damn.” That’s all he says.
Damn good? Damn bad? Damn nice weather?
I raise my brows. “Care to be more specific?”
He doesn’t.
“The panties.” He gestures at my lace panties impatiently. “Take them off.”
Sighing, I strip out of them and let them fall to my feet. Now I’m completely naked, exposed to his ardent scrutiny.
He takes his time running his gaze over my body, taking in every inch of me. His breathing is raspy.
“Come here,” he says eventually, and I amble over, stopping right in front of him.
He stands, towering over me as he leans forward to whisper in my ear while his leg moves to part my knees, “Show me how wet you are.”
It’s not a question; it’s a statement, as though he knows just how eager I am to have him inside me. As though he’d expect nothing else from me.
His fingers send shivers down my spine as they trail down my abdomen and settle at my entrance. My breath hitches, caught in my chest like a trapped bird. Holding my breath, I spread my legs a little wider to grant him easy access.
“You’re dripping. So ready.” Slowly, he dips the tip of one finger into me and then lifts it to his mouth and licks my moisture off it. “I like the way you taste and smell. I’ll like your slickness even more around my cock.”
Oh, God.
No one’s ever talked like this to me before.
I don’t know how to react to it, so I just stare at him while he strips off his shirt, jeans, and underwear—all in a matter of seconds. The motion is so skillful, I can’t help but wonder how many times he’s practiced it and with how many women.
The pang of jealousy is ridiculous when I’m not interested in him emotionally whatsoever.
Instead of following the irritating thought, I look down and almost choke on my breath.
Holy crap!
He’s huge. Way bigger than I remember. And so hard, I almost come from just looking at him. No wonder he only does casual. With a cock like that, he’s most certainly not short of eager women lining up at his door to get a good tumble between the sheets.
Hell, I’ve just turned into one of them.
I have to force my eyes away. Looking anywhere else but his hardness is good, and yet I keep stealing glances.
The tip is engorged, glistening with moisture. I watch him slide his hand up and down its length.
“You keep looking at me, Ava. And you should. This is how hard you make me, baby.”
I avert my eyes instantly, my already flushed cheeks catching fire.
He caught me staring. Again.
“No,” I say, but the lie’s so obvious it’s embarrassing.
“Look at me,” he commands as he begins to stroke himself, up and down, the gesture both intimate and familiar.
My tongue flicks across my lips.
“I want to help,” I whisper.
He groans but doesn’t take me up on the offer. “Say you want me to fill you up.”
I shake my head. Maybe other women talk to him like that, but I can’t.
“Tell me how much you want me inside you,” Kellan orders and lets go of his shaft. He inches closer, and his fingers brush the inside of my legs. His palm presses against my clitoris, the pressure unbearably hard and frustrating. I arch my hips forward, silently begging him to enter me.
I draw a sharp breath as two fingers move between my legs, settling against my mound.
“Is this what you want?” His fingers slide into me, filling me up like they did last night. I nod and tilt my head back, closing my eyes in the process. The pleasure is all consuming, frustratingly so because I won’t come from it. I need more.
“It’s not enough.” My words are barely more than a whisper.
“Then say you want me to fill you.” His voice is rough, the demand harsher than before. Through the lust-induced fog inside my brain, I can recognize a pattern. Just like stripping for him, this is an order he expects me to obey.
“I want you to fill me up,” I whisper.
“Tell me you want my cock inside you, fucking you so deep you’ll feel it for a week,” Kellan says. “Now, look at me.” His fingers leave my pussy and settle beneath my chin, forcing me to meet his heated gaze. “Say it.”
Without his fingers inside me, I feel empty. I’m eager to please him so we can finally get to the action. “I want to feel you for a week.”
“Good girl.” He smiles, seemingly pleased.
For a moment, he releases me and fumbles with his jeans. I look away, but the noise of a tearing foil wrapper is unmistakable. There’s something dirty about the way I just stand there, bathed in glowing brightness, waiting for a guy I barely know to pull on a condom.