Scanadlous(112)

“This is just the start,” he whispers, breathing deeply over my neck and taking my scent in. I purr as he slides his fingers out, and then my lips curl into a smile as he wipes his fingers off my juices on my buttocks. My body still twitching, I let my hand dart behind me and against his chest. Without seeing what I’m doing, I let my fingers go down the front of his shirt, and I only stop when I find what I’m looking for: a hard bulge between his legs, one that holds promises of unspeakable delight. I curl my fingers around it, electricity shocking my brain as I think of the possibilities.

I move my hand up and down, stroking him over his trousers, but I can’t do it for long; I need to feel him on me, inside me, not just on my hand. Letting go, I let my fingers go over to his waist, and then I hook them on his pants; I tug them down hurriedly, his cock brushing against the back of my hand. It feels as if my heart is going to burst from anxiety, my body desperately craving him inside me.

Before I can push his cock down and between my legs, he grabs me by the wrist. He pins it against the wall harshly, restraining me, and then presses his body against mine. His length between my ass cheeks, he presses even harder, my body close to the boiling point. It’s hard to be patient when he’s so close, and when I can feel his unbridled desire for me… But, fighting against all of my instincts, I do it, even though what my body demands is for me to turn around and guide him home.

I rock my body against him, moving it in waves as the warmness of his cock seeps into my skin. Time seems to dilate as I stroke him like that, eternity blanketing my mind. Please, I almost pray to the Heavens, let this last forever.

With a sudden movement, he pulls back, his cock no longer against my body. But then he yanks on my hair again, forcing my head back as, with his other hand, he guides his cock between my thighs. I gasp as his glans brushes against my clit, my mind suddenly capable of producing one simple though: yes, yes, yes.

“You want this, don’t you?” he asks me, slowly sliding his cock in. There’s only one inch inside of me, if that, but I can already feel the flames of delight burning under my skin.

“Yes... “ I mutter, trying hard to find the words inside my barely functioning brain. “Yes… I want it…”

Slowly, he lets one more inch inside of me, my pussy molding around his shaft. I try to push my hips back, but his hand on my waist keeps me still. I feel his body tensing up and I close my eyes for his thrust, but he does the opposite—he pulls his cock out, and then leans into me.

“You’ll have it… But not yet.” This is torture, plain and simple. To show me pleasure just to snatch it away at the last second… It just makes me want him more. It makes me delirious for him, my mind functioning with one sole purpose: to have him in me. “Turn around.”

I obey, turning on my heels to face him. He looks at me with the hint of a smile on his lips, and then he pulls his shirt over his head. I purse my lips, my eyes wandering over the narrow valleys between his abs. It doesn’t matter how many times I see his muscles, I can’t help myself from marveling at his sculpted body. My eyes follow the motion of his arms as he pulls his shirt off, the muscles in his chest and shoulders working in tandem like the perfect piece of human engineering they are. Throwing his shirt to the floor, he kicks off his shoes and, pushing down his pants and boxer briefs, steps out of them. I can’t take my eyes off of him as he undresses, his perfection almost too much for me to bear.

Standing in front of me, he makes me feel small and helpless. He could just as easily unleash ecstasy on my body as he could pick me up and break me in half. And although Lucien Stone is a criminal, a violent one at that, I feel safer than ever.

“Take it off,” he tells me, looking at me with his bottomless eyes. I stare back, the sound of my heartbeat like a machine gun against my eardrums. Lost in his eyes, my mind sails away from all sanity. Without even being aware of it, I grab my shirt by the hemline and pull it over my head. I throw it on the floor, on top of his, and then step out of my trousers.

He takes one step forward and my heart skips a beat. His hands reach for me and he slides them under my arms, his fingers running over the straps of my bra. He goes for the clasp and, unfastening it, slowly peels the bra off of me. I let it fall down my arms, the cups drooping over my breasts and finally gliding down to the floor.

Moving back again, he stops two feet away from my body, his cock pointing upward and calling to me. With a serious expression on his face, he lets his eyes hike all the way from my ankles to my face. Then, he smiles, and I melt.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, the words blanketing my mind.