He raises a brow. “Are you sure? I don’t mind using them.” He kisses my collarbone again. “I’ve never not used them.”
“I don’t mind,” I whisper. “Unless there’s something you need to tell me.”
He offers me a wicked smile and kisses me deeply.
I glide my hands down his naked back to his ass, under his loose jeans, and hold on tight as he presses his pelvis to mine, grinding against me and making me even wetter, if that’s even possible. Is there anything sexier than a man’s ass when it’s barely covered by undone jeans?
No. No, there’s not.
“Eli,” I whisper.
“My clothes are still on.”
He grins against my lips and settles over me, his elbows planted on either side of my head. “Yes, they are.”
“Take them off,” I demand softly and wiggle beneath him, still gripping his ass, and the arch of my foot rubbing over his denim-covered calf.
He grips onto my hair and tilts my head to the side as he drags his lips down my jawline to my neck and proceeds to drive me out of my ever-loving mind with his talented mouth and tongue. My nipples have puckered, my hands grip him tighter, one still on his ass, the other now buried in his soft hair.
My hips tilt up, pressing against his hard on, and I want him inside me.
“Eli, please. Need you inside me.”
“I’ll get there,” he replies lazily, and works his way around to the other side of my neck.
“Can we go a bit faster here?” I ask breathlessly, and then groan when his tongue skims over my sweet spot. “God, I love it when you hit that spot.”
“I know,” he whispers and does it again, making my toes curl.
“Eli.” I’m whining, and I hate myself for it, but for the love of all that’s holy, why isn’t he naked and inside me?
“Kate,” he says and bites the tender skin at the top of my shoulder. “It’s Sunday.”
I frown, but then sigh when he finally pulls my shirt up my body and guides it over my head. “What does the day of the week have to do with anything?”
He pulls the cups of my bra down and slowly circles one puckered nipple with his tongue, then blows on it and repeats the motion on the other side.
Moving as slowly as humanly possible.
He’s trying to kill me.
“You’re in the South. Don’t you know that we don’t do anything quickly on Sunday?” He’s kissing down my stomach now, and I’m a bit self-conscious because hello, I don’t have a six pack. Or any kind of pack.
But he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves down my body, and I’m expecting him to pull my denim shorts off, but instead, he bypasses the center of my universe and begins kissing my legs.
“Really?” I demand with a laugh, earning a sharp bite on the inside of my right thigh.
He chuckles and drags his fingernails down my outer thighs, calves, to my bare feet and back up again while his mouth does something completely crazy to the back of my knee.
Apparently, he didn’t find all of my erogenous zones yesterday.
“Oh, my God,” I murmur, and can’t keep my hips from shifting and moving. He’s going to make me come without even touching me.
How is that possible?
“Open your eyes, sugar.” My gaze meets his, and I’m surprised to find his eyes on fire, watching me as he unzips my shorts, guides them down my legs, and tosses them over his shoulder. “No underwear for you either?”
I shrug and smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. He’s still watching me intently, braced on the back of the couch, as his fingers glide up my inner thigh and brush, ever so gently, over my lips, my clit, and then…my stomach.
Really? He’s not going to hang out in the one place that’s screaming for him?
I must frown because a wicked smile breaks out over that impossibly handsome face of his and he cocks a brow. “You don’t like that?”
“You’re teasing me.”
“Yes.” He watches my face as his fingers find my core again, but it’s just his fingertips tickling over my lips, the crease where my leg meets my center. I reach for his wrist to guide him inside, but he quickly grips my hand in his, kisses it, and places it above my head. “You’re not controlling this.” His lips are barely touching my own. “You’re going to be patient, and enjoy. It’s Sunday.”
“You’ve never been lazy on a Sunday in your life,” I whisper against his lips. Jesus, I can’t catch my breath.
I’m going to die of asphyxiation before I get to come. That’s not fair.
“There’s a first for everything,” he replies softly, bites my lower lip, then resumes the torture happening between my legs. He glances down. “Fuck me, you’re wet.”
“That happens when you do stuff to me,” I reply and circle my hips.
“Stuff?” he repeats. “What kind of stuff?”
I’m not strong enough to fight him on my language. I don’t care if I swear. All I can focus on is having him over me, in me. Now.
“When you kiss me and touch me and tease me with fucking me,” I reply, and feel very satisfied when his eyes widen.
“I do love hearing those filthy words come out of your pretty mouth,” he murmurs in that slow Cajun accent that makes me crazy. His fingers are rubbing my lips harder now, gliding effortlessly through my wet folds. Finally, he scoots down, kisses my navel piercing, slides one finger inside me, and plants his mouth on my clit, not sucking, just being and I cry out, gripping the cushions at my hips, pushing my hips up to grind on his lips.
He pulls the finger back out, and gently licks over my lips, clit and folds, plants the flat of his tongue over my clit, and pushes two fingers inside me; I push up onto my elbows, watching as he turns me inside out.
“Oh, my God, Eli, you’re gonna make me…”
He pulls away, kisses me between my navel and pubis, and grins when I growl at him.
“Your pussy is so soft,” he says, as though he’s just making casual conversation. His fingers are moving in and out, slowly, methodically. If he’d just press his thumb on my sweet spot, I’d come spectacularly.
But I have a feeling that’s not going to happen yet.
“You have this spot…” he shoves his fingers all the way in, and makes a come here motion that makes me see stars. “Right behind your pubic bone. Don’t close your eyes,” he orders. I look up at him as his fingers pick up speed. He’s watching me as he pushes on that spot again.