My Sinful Longing (Sinful Men Book 3) Page 8

17

  Colin

  We reached my house minutes later, her car pulling in behind mine.

  I half expected her to change her mind.

  To say she’d been rash.

  To backpedal.

  But as soon as I got out of my car, she slammed her door shut and grinned. “I’m hungry.”

  “I’ve got your breakfast right here,” I said, holding up the containers as we walked to the door.

  “Not for that.”

  I drew a satisfying breath. “I had a feeling.”

  “You should. You should definitely have a good feeling about this,” she said, frisky and sexy.

  As I turned the key in the lock, I looked at her, all eager and ready. “I want to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

  Her skin shimmered with the flush of desire. “Like what?”

  “Like pure desire. Because I’m obsessed with your pleasure. Every ounce of it, every inch of it, every second of it.” I ran my hand down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in my wake.

  “Colin,” she said, as if she was trying to resist me. Trying futilely. “You say these things . . .” She trailed off as she seemed to collect her thoughts. “You say these things that make it so hard to resist you.”

  I opened the door, shooting her a grin. “Good. Don’t resist me.”

  “I’m not.”

  Once inside, I set down the food, grateful that Shannon and Brent had swung by earlier to take Johnny Cash for the day. I didn’t have to worry about letting him out. I focused on Elle, only on Elle. I held her face and kissed her deeply again.

  She murmured as I explored her mouth, her lips, her neck.

  Dear God, her neck was divine.

  I broke the kiss and swept some hair off her neck. “These sparrows need attention right now.”

  “They definitely do.”

  We made our way to the couch.

  I brushed my thumb over her top lip, tracing a soft line, and she parted her mouth, closing her eyes. But I didn’t kiss her. I had something else planned. I moved my mouth to her ear and whispered, “I bet your neck is insanely sensitive.”

  She shivered, then moaned. “Want to find out?”

  “I absolutely do.”

  I adjusted her so I was behind her, then pressed a hot kiss to her neck.

  She gasped.

  Perfect. Fucking perfect.

  But she’d made it clear earlier what she liked, and I was all about giving the woman what she wanted.

  “Just one second.” I stood as she watched me. Reaching down to the hem of my T-shirt, I tugged it off.

  “Oh God,” she said on a heavy breath as she stared at my chest. “You are gorgeous.”

  She’d seen me shirtless before, but never like this. Never before I was about to have her. From the edge of her seat, she stared unabashedly, with hunger in her hazel eyes. The way she watched me sent bolts of lust through me.

  I returned to the couch, sitting next to her, my every nerve ending firing for this woman. What I felt for her was physical and so much more. Her passion for her work, her drive to make a difference, her heart that gave and gave and gave—all of it had spurred on my feelings. But then this—her body, her desire that she was finally admitting—drove me wild.

  “So, tell me something,” I said, moving closer, dropping my hand behind her to touch her lower back, then tracing a line up her spine with my fingertips. She arched into me.

  “Yes?”

  I bent my head closer to her ear and whispered hotly, “Did you wear your hair up today for me?”

  She exhaled deeply. “Yes.”

  I dragged my index finger up the back of her neck, loving that one word. Yes. “Because you know I have a thing for your sparrows.”

  “Do I know that?” She sounded breathless, and I rewarded that sound with a sweep of my lips across her throat.

  “You do,” I said rough, commanding. “You know exactly how much I want you. And I want you so damn much, Elle.”

  I needed to say these words. I’d been holding them inside for so many months. They had to be set free.

  And as I kissed the gorgeous column of her neck, I repeated them. “So much.”

  “Same here. I want you so much,” she said, and I could hear the fevered desperation in her tone. I was going to reward that wanting, as she tugged off her shirt, wearing only a bra.

  Gorgeous.

  Lowering my mouth to her shoulder and working my way over, I licked the line of birds to the edge of her hair. She shuddered. I smothered her neck in kisses. Up, down, across. Over her shoulder blades, and down and back up her spine.

  Every kiss unleashed another moan from her, a sexy gasp, a needy sigh. Noises that were only a prelude of what I wanted to hear from her today.

  18

  Elle

  No one had ever made me feel like this. Like I was high on touch. Like I was dizzy from a kiss. I wanted him so badly, and not just physically. I wanted more of him, but my emotions had to be cordoned off. I’d already let so many of them escape, and I didn’t know where emotions, dangerous, deadly things, would take me.

  But I wanted to let go for this one day.

  Let go of everything but the way he made me feel so alive.

  “Close your eyes,” he told me firmly, and I let them drift closed, giving in to the other senses. Giving in to touch, as he dipped his mouth closer to my skin, his lips fluttering over me once more. Giving in to sensation, as my hair spilled from its tie onto my neck when he undid my ponytail.

  “Oh God,” I gasped as his hands dove into my hair.

  What was he doing? No one had ever touched me like this. Finding a spot on me and worshipping it.

  And I’d never realized I’d wanted that till now, as he zeroed in on a part of my body that cried out for him.

  With every kiss, I melted.

  With every touch, I ached.

  He read my responses as if it were his top-secret assignment to know every inch of me, and now he’d learned my neck was the gateway to my pleasure.

  He’d unlocked the code to all my desires, and he was using it masterfully.

  He threaded his talented fingers through my hair, gripping it, and I moved with him, moaned for him, as if I were notes he played on a cello. He was the musician; I was the instrument. He played and played and played, and my body sang for him, a song of pure desire. Of heat. Of want.

  He twisted my hair once around his hand, pulling it to the side, and I tilted my head that way, giving him more room to devour my neck with kisses, like he was starved for me. He lavished pleasure all over, leaving me drenched in sensation from soft, fluttery whispers along my neck and territorial kisses that claimed me as his, all mixed with the whiskery rub of his stubble. His ever-present scruff was trimmed but long enough to brush against my skin with every kiss, bringing the intoxicating blend of soft and hard, of tender and rough.

  He snaked an arm over my shoulders, grazing my breasts as he traveled down my belly, his fingertips dancing along my waist.

  “You like what I do to you.” It wasn’t a question.

  “So much,” I said, as he flicked the tip of his tongue across my shoulder. When he kissed me like this, and he touched me like that, I wanted to give myself to him fully. But that was risky, so risky. A voice in the back of my head told me to stop thinking, just feel.

  That was what today was for. And I wanted to relish it.

  It had been a year in the making.

  His hand reached the crest of my hip, and he traced the top of my panties through the fabric of my shorts.

  “Touch me,” I whispered.

  He smiled against me, wickedly. “I will. But first, show me how much you like giving in. Show me how wet you are.”

  How much I liked it? Try craved it like air.

  I unbuttoned my shorts and pushed them down, showing him my panties.

  “Elle.” He groaned huskily, moving his hand between my legs, touching my thighs. “Look at you, Elle. Look at ho
w wet you get. For me.” His fingers glided up the soft flesh of my thighs, and I parted my legs for him. Grazing the wet panel, he whispered, “I want to feel you on my cock. I want this sweet wetness all over me. Tell me how much you want me inside you right now. Tell me.”

  My body was a storm of lust as I said, “Yes, I want that. I want you so much.”

  He rose, shucked off his shorts, then his boxers, and my mouth went dry as I stared at his erection—hard, heavy, and so many glorious inches that I longed to take deep inside me. Bending to reach for his wallet on the table, he found a condom inside.

  I pulled off my bra, then skimmed off my panties and socks, and I lay down on the couch.

  But he would have none of that.

  He sat and pulled me up. “Ride me,” he commanded.

  I gasped. I was nothing but cells and atoms, electrons and protons, smashing and colliding into lust and desire. I straddled him as he kissed me.

  His lips were on my shoulders, my neck, my throat. His hands grabbed my breasts. His fingers raced down my arms. His erection bobbed against me as he tore open the packet.

  As he rolled it on, I spotted the new ink on his hip. A simple black phoenix, akin to a stencil design. It matched the lotus, like he’d said. Matched it in its symbolism.

  “For new beginnings,” I whispered softly, tracing it with my fingertip. It mesmerized me, the art and lines, the placement on his body, but I shook off my reaction because I didn’t want to think of beginnings. I wanted to think only of ending this epic ache in my body.

  “Yes, for new beginnings,” he said as his fingers grasped my hips, and I lowered myself onto his shaft.

  I moaned decadently as I took him in, inch by inch, savoring the way he filled me. “I almost forgot . . .” I said as I started to move on him.

  “Forgot what?” he asked, thrusting up into me.

  I clenched around him. “How to feel good.”

  He groaned, jerking me down harder. “Does this feel good?”

  “It’s incredible, Colin. It’s . . . intense,” I said on an exhale.

  The intensity thrummed in my bones, sizzling across my skin as he thrust up into me.

  Then, because he was a fast learner, because he’d picked up in seconds all the shortcuts to my pleasure, he looped his fingers in my hair and pulled hard, exposing my throat to him. It was like an electric burst of ecstasy.

  “This is better than my fantasies,” he said, layering kisses onto my skin. “You get so wet, and I love how it feels to slide into you over and over.”

  “Tell me how it makes you feel,” I said, losing touch with reality as he talked to me, his dirty words sending me onto another plane. The way he spoke to me was such an insane turn-on, and I was already aroused beyond my own comprehension. He kissed the hollow of my throat and drove deep into me.

  “It’s extraordinary. Being inside you is extraordinary. I want to feel you come on me.” He slid a finger between my legs, brushing it lightly against me. He stroked me, and I moaned, a sound that contained all the pleasure in the universe. He’d flipped that switch, pushing me from chasing an orgasm to falling apart in his arms. I shuddered, pleasure wracking my cells, racing through me to flood every inch of my being.

  I shouted his name. And with that, he thrust up into me like a mad man on a frenzied ride, desperate to follow me to the other side. He fucked me as aftershocks rippled through me, the sensation spreading to my fingers and toes.

  As my moans subsided, I opened my eyes, watching him, loving the way he looked when he came. Nothing was sexier, nothing was hotter than watching the man I wanted lose control.

  All for me.

  Somehow I was his undoing.

  And it turned out he was mine.

  He fucked me into his own release, his eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted in pleasure. He grunted and groaned my name before biting my collarbone as he came.

  “We can’t stop,” I whispered, voicing the most dangerous words. Words I shouldn’t say. But my body had the reins, making decisions for me, seeking more bliss.

  “We can’t, and we shouldn’t,” he murmured, layering soft kisses on my neck.

  Soon, when we came down from our high and my senses attuned to the world around me again, my stomach rumbled.

  I was hungry for breakfast.

  “Glad we got it to go,” I said.

  “Me too.”

  19

  Colin

  That night

  Colin: That thing you want me to do to you . . .

  Elle: You’ll need to be more specific. I want you to do a lot of things to me.

  Colin: My bad. The thing where I make you come hard. Many times.

  Elle: Oh, that thing. That little thing.

  Colin: Your orgasms are not little. They’re quite epic.

  Elle: Give credit where credit’s due. YOU.

  Colin: *thumps chest* *squares shoulders* *asks when you can come over again so you can come over and over again*

  Colin: Wait. I meant to say, can I take you out first and then make you come again? Ideally, countless times on my face?

  Elle: I’m sorry, what did you say? I was suffering from an intense bout of text message–induced lust.

  Colin: I have just the cure for that.

  Elle: You are the cure for all my lust.

  Colin: Excellent. Let’s keep it that way.

  Elle: I want to. My mom offered her services tomorrow night, so let me get back to you on a time. Actually, she offered her services anytime I want to get serviced by you!

  Colin: You better not get serviced by anyone but me.

  Elle: Um. It’s more than service, Colin.

  Colin: So much more.

  Elle: Want to meet for dinner after my roller derby practice tomorrow? Alex will be at a friend’s house, and then my mom can get him.

  Colin: Dinner and then you.

  Elle: Or me and then dinner.

  Colin: I like this new side of you.

  Elle: The voracious side?

  Colin: Yes, and the one where you let me service it.

  Elle: I like it too.

  20

  Colin

  We ate dinner on Sunday at a Thai restaurant on the second floor of a hotel on the Strip. Over pumpkin curry and drunken noodles, we talked about our siblings. She told me stories of things she and her sister did as kids – pranking each other and then sassing each other, she’d said. “Camille and I had tongues of fire, and we could unleash the insults.”

  I shared tales of the four of us, how my brothers and I pretended to do ballet jumps when Shannon was practicing for dance recitals and then how she’d write us fake notes from girls at school. Elle and I laughed at the silliness of our younger selves as we devoured the meal and the good conversation.

  As we left, we headed for the stairwell instead of the crowded elevator.

  Ah, stairwells. The perfect location for a little something.

  She slid her body close to mine, rubbing her sexy frame against me, making contact with my erection. She arched an eyebrow and gazed south. “Hello there.”

  “Greetings to you too.”

  She pressed harder against my dick and started circling her hips in the empty stairwell. Then she dropped her hand to my jeans, grabbing me through the denim as she palmed the outline of my cock. “I guess you liked dinner,” she said.

  I jerked her even closer. “And now I want dessert.”

  Her eyes blazed with mischief as I spun her around and backed her against the wall. Cupping her face with my hands, I gazed at her. I drank in her absolute beauty, savoring the way she looked up at me. Her lusty expression, her parted lips, her racing breath.

  I lifted my thumb to her mouth, brushing it against her lips. I half wanted to ask what we were doing. Half wanted to ask for clarity. I had a sense she wasn’t ready for that though.

  But I suspected she was ready for this. I stroked her bottom lip softly with the pad of my thumb, then asked, “Know what I want to do right now
?”

  “Tell me.”

  “I want to spread you out, worship your sexy body, and take my time licking and kissing and sucking you all over. I want to taste every inch of your skin before I bury my face between your legs,” I said, dropping my hand to her jeans and cupping her. She moaned as I felt how hot she was through her clothes.

  “I have to be home in less than an hour.” She sounded so damn desperate and hungry and horny that I was dying to strip her jeans to her ankles, kneel before her, and taste her heat. But I was patient. I was going to have her when I had time to feast.

  “Not now,” I whispered. “But when I do, it’ll be like this.” I angled her head slightly, then flicked my tongue gently over her mouth. She gasped, shuddering as I lightly brushed my lips over hers, as if I were tasting her sweetness. She trembled in my arms as I showed her precisely how I intended to lavish attention on her, how I’d kiss and suck and then devour her. God, I wanted her. I wanted her so badly. On my mouth, flooding my tongue, all over my lips, drenching my chin. I kissed her like that. Like a man consumed. My hands clutched her cheeks, my lips fused to hers, and my mind raced with images, sensations, and fantasies about how she’d taste with her legs wrapped around my neck, writhing and bucking as she grabbed my hair and came hard on my tongue.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. In a mad fury, I unzipped her jeans and dipped my hand inside her panties. Oh hell. This was wetness. This was lush, delicious heat. I stroked her, and in seconds my fingers were coated.