Page 118 of Promised To A Menace

“Yeah.”

He studied my face for another second before brushing his thumb along my cheek.

“Aight, baby.”

I pulled him back toward me, and this time I ain't have to say shit else.

His mouth was on mine again, slower this time, like he was taking his time tasting me. His hand slid up the side of my neck, thumb brushing along my jaw, while his other hand gripped my waist and pulled me closer to the edge of the bed. I could feel the heat coming off his body, and it made my skin feel like it was on fire.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes locked on mine, focused in a way that made my stomach flip.

“Lay back,” he said, his voice low.

I didn't argue. Just scooted back on the bed and let my head hit the pillow. He stayed where he was for a second, just watching me, before he reached down and hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts.

“Lift up for me.”

I did, and he slid them down along with my underwear in one smooth motion, tossing them somewhere on the floor. The cool air hit my skin, and I pressed my thighs together without even thinking.

He noticed.

“Nah, don't do that." His hands came to my knees, gently pushing them apart. “Let me see you.”

My breath caught, and I felt my face heat up even though we'd already done this before. The way he was looking at me had me feeling shy as hell, which was crazy considering what we'd already done together.

He climbed onto the bed, settling between my legs, his hands sliding up my thighs. His touch was firm but not rough, and I could feel the calluses on his palms as they moved higher.

“You nervous?” he asked, glancing up at me.

“No.”

“You sure? 'Cause you tensing up.”

“I'm not nervous,” I said, even though my heart was beating so fast I could hear it in my ears.

He smirked, clearly not buying it. “Aight, ma. Just relax for me.”

His hands kept moving, thumbs brushing along the inside of my thighs, and I felt my body start to loosen up despite myself. He wasn't rushing, wasn't trying to get straight to it. He was just touching me, taking his time, and somehow that made it worse. Or better. I couldn't tell which.

When his mouth finally touched me, I gasped, my back arching off the bed before I could stop it.

“Fuck,” I breathed out.

He didn't say anything, just kept going, his tongue moving slow and deliberate. One of his hands stayed on my thigh, holding me in place, while the other one slid up to rest on my stomach.

I grabbed the sheets, my fingers twisting in the fabric as I tried to keep myself together. But the way he was doing it slow, and focused, like he was paying attention to every little reaction I had made it damn near impossible.

“Cassian,” I moaned, my voice coming out shaky.

He pulled back just enough to look up at me, his lips glistening. “What's up, baby?”

“Don't stop.”

“I ain't going nowhere.” He dipped his head back down, and this time he added more pressure, his tongue moving faster.

My legs started shaking, and I couldn't control the sounds coming out of my mouth. I tried to close my thighs, but his hands kept them open, his grip firm but not painful.

“Stay still,” he said against me, the vibration of his voice making me moan again.