One of his knees hits the bed, then the other. He crawls up my body, his eyes shooting sparks straight into mine. He stops moving, straddling me on his hands and knees, strong arms encasing my head as he begins to run his fingers through my long hair.
“You deserve romance, sweet-tart.” Those stunning orbs seek out mine. I gulp.
“I deserve you.” I skim my fingertips up his arms, slowly. They move on their own. Like every other part of me, they want to touch him, to be consumed by him. To taste his skin.
“I had very naughty plans for you tonight, but seeing you like this makes me want to make love to you instead of what I had planned.” My god, it’s true when people say your eyes tell the truth. His are right now. I’m lost in them. I meant what I said about him not needing to change. Obviously, this silly man needs a reminder. My curiosity is strumming away inside me, too, prying away, wanting to know how dirty he wants to get. If it’s what I think it is, he has no idea how much I want him that way, too.
“Aidan. I bought this for you. Not because I want romance. I did it because I want you. You, Aidan.” Drawing my hands behind his neck, I tug him down to me. He falls on top of me, his large body completely covering mine, his thick cock resting above the spot where I want him the most.
“I love this,” he says, skimming his hands across the crests of my breasts. His lips crash down on mine. Hard, passionate, and dominating. Every single time he kisses me, my brain zooms into outer space. It doesn’t matter if he’s in control, or if the kiss is soft and endearing, or if it’s one like this, where he alternates his demeanor like he’s flipping a light switch on and off. People’s moods change all time. If he wants me hard and rough, or soft and delicate, I simply do not care. All I want is him.
He’s a master at kissing. I moan deep in the confines of the back of my throat when he swipes his tongue against mine, demanding and taking what is already his. Strong, sensuous, and sensational.
“I want your ass,” he blurts out into my mouth. I knew this already. Therefore, I smile smugly inside.
“Take it.” His head pops up. There he is. My naughty Aidan, the man who says whatever is on his mind.
“You’re sure? Because once I start, I won’t be able to stop.” Again those eyes of his search mine. I want this too. My eyes are sparkling with mischief. I know the minute my answer registers with him. He plops himself up, scoops me into his arms, and flips me over onto my stomach. His need takes over, those large hands palming my silk-covered ass. I’m nervous and excited. And soaking wet. I shiver with arousal.
He has no clue what power he has over me. It’s not the sex or the divine reign his simple touch have over my body. It’s everything about him. He’s the entire package. I want it all with him.
“You have no clue what this ass does to me. It’s so goddamn enticing. So fucking tempting. Every time I look at it, it drives me mad. I want to drive my cock into your plump, tight ass, fill you, please you the way you do me.” Oh, god almighty. If he doesn’t stop mixing his own kind of sweet with his own kind of tart, I may flip that light switch my own damn self.
I wiggle my ass, enticing him to continue, lustful intentions nagging in the forefront of my very coherent mind.
I squeal when those hands shove the silk up my back, exposing my bare ass. His grip is firm on my backside. The magnitude of my arousal is striking to my won senses.
“I need you to touch me,” I ring out like a damn musical instrument waiting to be plucked and pounded on.
The bed shuffles just so, my bottom left wanting when he moves. I hear his zipper, then the soft thud of his jeans hitting the floor.
“Let me remove these barbells.” My eyes widen. Shit, I forgot about those. I can see why you would forget, seeing that your noggin is lodged somewhere in outer space between Mars and Uranus. My inner whore-bag did not just say that? Oh, my freaking god.
“Touch you.” He murmurs in my ear when his flesh presses up against my back. “Anywhere,” I moan. My head is dipping back. Those dreamlike fingers touch my most sensitive spot, pressing, circling, and sending embers of awareness heightening my need for him. My inner whore-bag is gone with those two words ‘Touch you.’ Although she isn’t in outer space. She’s clapping her hands, spreading her legs, and slapping my ass.
“Jesus, baby. I love it when you’re ready for me.” I can’t speak. I’m lost in his fingers. They’ve taken me deep into the world of Aidan Hughes. He plays me like the expert he is. Fingers thrusting in then out, then circling my puckered little hole. I’m anxious. Delirious even. I don’t think I could construe a sentence even if he begged me to.