Cora Carmack - All Lined Up

I swallow and turn to face him, but I think I might have pushed him a little beyond his control. He’s kneeling in front of me, and his eyes are fixed on the bare skin of my waist and the strapless blue bra I’ve worn for the occasion.

He removes my flip-flops and tosses them over his shoulder before running hands up the backs of my calves.

I lean back, bracing my hands on the bed, and he follows me forward, placing a hot kiss just above the button on my skirt. My arms shake, and now I’m the one being teased.

“You know,” he says, his voice raspy and deep. “I was actually hungry.”

“You can go start dinner if you want. I’ll wait here.” I reach back and unhook my bra, tossing it over his shoulder like he did my shoes.

He growls low in his throat, standing to lean over me until I lay all the way back. “You’re playing with fire, Daredevil.”

I hook my fingers around his belt buckle and use it to pull him closer.

“Is that why it’s so hot in here?”

I drag my nails lightly down his abdomen until I can slip them just beneath the band of his jeans.

He swallows and closes his eyes, and I can see his arms shaking on either side of my head.

“Still hungry?” I ask.

“Yes.”

He crushes his lips to mine, and then his body follows, pressing down into mine.

His kisses are so hard and fast and desperate that I’m breathing heavy just trying to keep up. I slip my hands up the back of his shirt, digging my fingers into his lower back in the way I know drives him crazy. When I can’t keep up with the punishing pace, he leaves my mouth to drop kisses down my neck and chest. I’ve got his shirt pulled all the way up to his shoulders when he sucks the tip of my breast into his mouth, and I buck beneath him.

He uses his teeth just enough that I break out in goose bumps, and I swear if I could tear his shirt off him I would.

“Off,” I beg, tugging on it, but he ignores me in favor of switching to my other breast.

I let go of his shirt to grip his hair, and I’m gulping in air as fast as I can.

He flicks me with his tongue, and I cry out. Desperate, I reach for his shirt again and say, “Please.”

He lifts up, sliding back until he’s kneeling in front of me again.

“It’s my turn to tease, love.”

And tease he does, the heat of his breath chasing over the sensitive skin of my thighs as he reaches beneath my skirt to tug at the blue panties that soon join their counterpart in being tossed across the room.

In the half a year that we’ve been dating, we’ve taken our time learning each other’s bodies, building up to this night, and when his tongue touches my center, I moan, gripping the comforter and undoing the pristine way he made his bed.

He’s so good at this—dipping and swirling and flicking his tongue in all the right places. His stubble brushes my sensitive skin, and my hips buck up toward him. He alternates among breathing and kissing and sucking, and brings me close to the edge in record time.

Then he pulls back, dragging his lips down my thigh.

I groan in disappointment, and he laughs darkly.

“See? It’s not nice to tease.”

He pulls my skirt down over my hips, leaving me naked and him fully clothed.

“You’re cruel,” I whisper.

He leans down, planting a soft kiss on my lips, and says, “No, I just love you.”

“And I’d love it if I weren’t the only naked one here.”

He hums against my lips and then murmurs, “Soon.”

I groan and then try to bargain. “The shirt, at least. Please?”

He knows how much I like his upper body. It really is cruel and unusual punishment to keep it from me.

He relents, slipping it up and over his head, and then tossing it to join my clothes on the floor.

His lips return to my neck to tease me some more, but when I get to slide my hands over his skin, I don’t mind.

He might think he’s in charge just because he’s on top, but I know enough about him to give a little torture back. I run my fingers softly down his side, and his mouth on my collarbone presses harder. I lean my head up, placing a kiss on his shoulder before dragging my teeth over the same spot. His breath catches, and I use his hesitation to wrap my legs around him and pull until our hips are crushed together.

I roll my hips up into his and sigh. I love everything we do together, but there’s an ache between my legs that’s beyond need.

“Dallas,” he warns.

I do it again, moaning this time because I know he doesn’t like me silent.

“Damn it.”

“Carson, please.”

I’m not even really teasing him with my breathy plea. I can feel him against me, and I am wound so tightly that I can barely think straight. I keep pushing up into him, wanting to be closer, but taking whatever friction I can get.

I don’t even realize that my nails are digging into his shoulders, until Carson pulls my hands away, pinning my wrists above my head.

“You don’t play fair,” he growls.

I drag my heavy lids up and meet his electric gaze. “I’m not playing anymore. I just need you.”

His mouth slams down on mine again, and I do my best to fight his hold as he kisses me. When I can’t get my hands free, I settle for pulling him as close as I can with my legs, arching my body up into his.

When my bare chest brushes his, the tight buds of my nipples dragging over his bare skin, he shudders and pulls away, releasing my hands and unwinding my legs from his waist.

Apparently done teasing, he undoes his belt with quick hands and pushes off his remaining clothes until he matches me. He pauses to grab protection from his bedside table, and then he’s back with me, his face hovering over mine, and his body still not close enough.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

I pause from drinking him in to look up into his eyes, and I know positively that I love him.

“Now that you mention it, I’m a little hungry. Maybe we should break for dinner.”

He kisses me again and lowers his body to cover my own.

“No more jokes for you,” he says.

I don’t even have a reply, too caught up in the feeling of having absolutely nothing between us. He’s like silk and steel against me, and the tip of him brushes the bundle of nerves at my center, tearing another moan from me. I close my eyes, and I want him so badly that I feel weak with it.

Another thrust, the length of him sliding through my folds driving me absolutely mad. He sinks inside me, and even though it’s not my first time, it feels like it is. Because this . . . this is in a whole other world from every other physical experience I’ve ever had.

It burns just a little as he stretches me, but that all disappears behind the myriad of other sensations. A small part of me didn’t believe that things could get better than they already were between us, but I was so very wrong. I can feel him everywhere, and each slow drag of his body against mine has me gasping.

I love you.

I think it over and over again as our bodies come together. He thrusts a little harder, bringing him as deep as he can go. One hand curls possessively around my breast as he grinds down into me. Fire is burning up my spine, and when he plucks at my nipple, I nearly scream.

As usual, I have no filter, so when he moves harder, faster, I cry out, “Oh, yes, that. Like that.”

His lips take mine in a hungry kiss, and he gives me what I want, his muscled body colliding deliciously with mine.

God, I love you, I think again.

Or maybe I say it out loud, because his lips brush over mine, and he replies, “I love you, too.”

And out of all the plans I’ve made for my life, falling in love was the one thing I didn’t envision, the only thing you can’t really plan for.