Holy hell, she’s not wearing underwear. She’s hot, wet, and driving me fucking crazy. When did she take off her underwear? She kisses a path down my stomach, leaving a trail of goose bumps.
“Before?” she whispers.
“Before we open,” I say as fast as I can, because I know in seconds I’m not going to be able to think, much less speak. Delilah has learned exactly how to touch me to make me come apart in seconds and how to prolong the magnificent, torturous teasing until she’s ready for me to fall over the edge.
She caresses my breasts with both hands as she kisses my ribs, my stomach, my belly button. Every stroke of her tongue is sinful. I’m writhing, arching, making all sorts of needful noises as she makes my body hum with desire. I reach for her hips and she grabs my wrists and holds them down, then kisses me hard. Deep. Possessive.
I love in-control Delilah.
God, how I love this side of her, but I need to touch her, and I struggle to free my hands. Our lips part and I crane my neck, reaching for them to return. Her lips curve up in a devilish grin.
“A little greedy this morning, are we?”
“Oh my God, Delilah. You’re killing me. I need to touch you.”
She lowers her mouth to the sensitive underside of my forearm and settles her lips over my sensitive skin, sucking, kissing, nibbling her way up to my wrist, then my palm. Ohmygod. I never realized how sensitive my palms were, but as her tongue lazily follows the contours, I climb closer to the edge. I stretch my fingers, trying to reach beyond her restraint, and she sucks each finger into her mouth, swirls her tongue around them one by one. My eyes slam shut as I try to regain control, which I know is completely gone.
“Please, Dee…”
She ignores my pleas and moves to my other hand, taking her sweet time as she makes every nerve in my body heighten, makes my skin feel like it’s on fire. She needs a license for her tongue. It should be considered a lethal weapon, or come with a warning label at the very least. She takes my hand and lowers it between my legs, pressing it beneath hers as she strokes me.
This is new.
Naughtier than what I’m used to with Delilah.
I’m not a prude and certainly not averse to touching myself, but the fact that she’s initiating it makes me nearly lose my mind. I tug down my underwear and kick it off as she guides my hand back between my legs, then releases my other wrist. With my free hand, I tear at her top, and—thank the heavens above—she takes it off. I pull her down and take her breast in my mouth, hungrily teasing, grazing her nipple with my teeth, earning me the sexiest, hottest moan I’ve ever heard. She sits up and arches her back, still teasing my most sensitive area with her fingers. I waste no time bringing my hand between her legs and plunge two fingers into her. She moans again as I probe and tease, and the sight of her straddling my thigh, one hand between my legs, her head back, lips parted, is almost too much to take.
I try to capture her image in my mind, imagining the strokes of my brush it would take to replicate her beauty. I bring her free hand to my mouth and suck on her fingers. Her eyes open with a look of surprise, and as I place her fingers between her legs, she holds my gaze. She tries to move her hand away and I hold it in place, wondering if she’s willing to take the step. If she trusts me enough. My answer comes in the form of her softening gaze and easing of tension in her hand. I release the pressure and she touches herself as I cup the back of her neck and bring her mouth to mine.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” I say against her lips. “I love you so much.”
Our mouths collide, and our hips rock. The need to take her over the edge rushes through me like a tidal wave. I crave feeling her release shuddering through her. I shift her onto her back, and her knees fall open. She’s so trusting, so ready for me, as I move lower and make love to her with my mouth and my hands until she spirals over the edge. Her head turns from side to side as her hips buck against my mouth. I hold her to the mattress and take her up to the peak again and again, until her body relaxes limply into the mattress and she pants out my name.
“Ash…”
I fall to the bed beside her, eyes closed, one arm arced over my head, the other across my stomach. I’m not surprised when I feel her hand moving across my hip. She’s the most unselfish lover I’ve ever had and the last one I ever want.
Chapter Twenty-Two
~Delilah~
I’M PULLING MY shorts up when Ashley’s phone vibrates with a message. She’s showering, and I carry her phone into the bathroom and part the shower curtain. My mouth goes dry at the sight of her beneath the shower spray, water streaming over her breasts, falling in thin streams down the curve of her hips and thighs.