Page 72 of Off Limits: The Firsts

So, I shut it out to shut him up and step into him. With my hands in his shirt, I yank him down to me and bruise my lips on his, needing to feel him. Needing to feel wanted. Needing to know that, even though he knows my fears, he still wants me.

He kisses me back, but I can feel his hesitation, sense his discomfort, his wondering what in the hell I’m doing. My heart falls, and his hands lift to frame my cheeks. He holds my face still as he leans back. “Scout.” Our eyes meet, and I see honesty so raw I can’t handle it. I also see the pity. The sadness.

And I can’t see any more of that.

I shake my head back and forth, and he leans forward and brushes his lips tenderly against mine, almost as if he thinks I need nice and sweet right now, to go along with my sadness.

“No.” I need the exact opposite from him. “No,” I reiterate, gripping the back of his neck, not allowing him to back off, adding some urgency to our kiss. And he lets me take the reins again. Allows me to pour my unsettled emotions into the kiss until I’m breathless and the tears have started to dry on my cheeks. “Make me feel, Easton. I don’t need sweet. I need real. I need to know you’re here. I need to know you want me. I need to forget. But more than anything, I need you.”

He leans back again. I watch his Adam’s apple bob, see the clenching and unclenching of his jaw, and watch the realization sink in.

“I need you,” I mouth the words to him, and it’s like I’ve just thrown kerosene on a lighted match.

We meet each other in the middle, a mass of hands and tongues and commands and haste. We move to our own music: shirts over heads and bra unclasped and jeans unbuttoned and shoved down while he pulls my skirt up and his fingers find their way beneath the lace of my panties.

“God, yes.” His fingers part me, play with me, enter me. There’s no niceties. There’s no seduction. There’s just him doing exactly what I asked him to do—make me feel. Push my mind into the free fall of orgasmic oblivion so I can’t think.

He’s everywhere at once, hands and teeth and lips and skin, and it’s nowhere near enough. We shift backward somehow, our feet moving as our hearts race, until I bump into the net of the batting cage behind me. My feet tangle in it until I fall against it, leaving my body supported by the net itself. My laughter at the predicament shifts into a moan as his teeth nip at my jawline and his thumb slides over my clit.

“Mmmm, hold tight, Kitty,” he orders as he pulls his fingers from within me and moves my hands to hold onto the woven rope above my head. “You holding on?”

My eyes flash up to meet the salacious look in his, and I nod and try to comprehend why he’s asking; he shakes his head in warning and slides his fingers into my mouth. I taste my own arousal, suck on them, as he slides them back and forth between my lips.

“Don’t talk, Scout,” he murmurs. “Don’t question. Don’t move your hands. Just do. Just let me. Just feel.”

I nod as my breath grows shallow. His teeth are biting into his bottom lip as he watches, his free hand working back and forth over his cock. But it’s the look in his eyes, desire personified, that makes my back bow and beg for more.

“You want me to touch you?” He leans in and murmurs against my ear, his body close enough that I feel the crest of his cock bump against my lower belly as he strokes it in his hand. Talk about the sweetest torture, knowing the havoc that cock can wreak on my system, having it just within sight, and being told not to touch it.

I moan when he rubs it against my clit, and push my hips forward to get the feeling again. He half laughs, half groans as I take his dick between the tops of my thighs and show him what I want.

“Mmm, that feels good,” he says as he pushes between my thighs and adds to the friction on my clit.

But it’s not enough.

Nowhere near enough.

And he must agree because, unexpectedly, he lifts my hips and sets my ass back in a framed alcove of the netting. The moment my butt is settled on the shallow shelf, Easton drops to his knees, spreads my thighs, and looks up at me.

“You want to feel? Well, I want to taste you. Hold tight, Kitty.”

Without another word, and with his eyes fastened to mine, he uses one hand to part me and then licks a line from my clit all the way down to my opening and then back up. And with the perfect amount of pressure and frequency, he begins to flick his tongue over the hub of nerves there. Soft and slow at first, and then faster and a bit harder.

I writhe beneath his touch. I sink into the pleasure and soar in its haze. Every sensation works my nerves—the warmth of his tongue, the tickle of his breath, the pressure as he slides his fingers inside me to give me the one-two punch of tongue on my clit and fingers rubbing my G-spot.

I moan and buck and pull on the netted ropes, all to ease the mounting pressure inside of me. To hold off my orgasm so that the pressure can build even stronger. I’m a mess of contradictions, and yet every one of them feels so damn good that the moan from my mouth can’t even express how incredible they are.

I’m aroused. Needy. Greedy. Desperate for more. Selfish. Eager. And every single one of those feelings is amplified by the hunger in his eyes as he looks up at me with his tongue buried between my thighs, my arousal glistening on his skin, and his fingers buried deep within me.

A lick of his tongue. A rub of his fingers. The groan from his lips. The carnality in his eyes. The rope biting into my skin.

My breath grows faint. My body pulls tight. My head grows dizzy.

And then lightning strikes—from my center, out to my toes and fingers, and then all the way back in until the reverb slams back for a second, more powerful wave.

My cry fills the room as he laps at the wetness between my thighs, his groan of pleasure sounding as good as the orgasm feels. He milks it out for me, the licks of his tongue grow softer, and his palms slide up my belly to cup my breasts, gently tug on my nipples, and sustain the ecstasy pulsing through my body.

And when he stands, when he brings his mouth to mine and takes my lips with as violent a desire as when his tongue brought me to climax, I’m immediately desperate for the feel of his dick sliding into me.