Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Frasier’s words sent a thrill through me.
Angel, in no world would I ever allow myself to come before getting you off at least once.
Oh god. Yes.
This was exactly what I needed. He was what I needed.
I reached for him, and he grabbed for me, and then we were kissing.
Frasier tilted my head, and I opened myself to him, allowing him to deepen the kiss.
In all the years I’d known him, I’d never expected him to be so passionate.
Intense, yes. Dedicated and loyal. A team player. But damn, the man knew how to kiss.
Out here alone, with no witnesses but the stars in the sky, he took his time. This kiss was just as desperate as our first but also deeper. We were exploring each other, learning each other’s preferences. With every brush of his hands on my skin, I felt as if I might implode.
For a man who was so large and imposing, he really was quite tender.
And even though he was naked and hard, his cock nudging my stomach, he seemed in no rush to move on from kissing. He made me feel beautiful, cherished, and alive.
Part of me worried about what this would mean—for our relationship, for the future.
If the last year and a half had taught me anything, it was how quickly plans could change.
But if Frasier and I could survive everything that we had, I had faith that we could make it through almost anything together.
The only thing guaranteed was this moment.
I was done thinking. All I wanted was to feel. Frasier’s hands on my skin. His lips on mine. Our bodies moving together.
He kissed down my neck, over my collarbone, across the tops of my breasts. I was on fire for him. When the remaining strap of my dress slid from my shoulder, I didn’t fight it, leaving myself bare to him.
Frasier rubbed a hand over his mouth, watching me with the kind of intensity he usually reserved for the ice. I knew there was no going back after this, but instead of being scared, I was exhilarated. Free in a way. A bit like jumping off the cliff at Little Bay.
There was no awkwardness. No pretense. No more games, as he’d said earlier.
I let my dress fall the rest of the way until it pooled at my feet on the ground. I stood before Frasier in only my strappy sandals and lacy thong, and he looked at me like a man possessed.
He bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He took a few heaving breaths, eyes squeezed shut. I was about to ask if he was okay, but then he seemed to compose himself once more.
“Fuck, Bryn.” He straightened, shaking his head. “You are something else. You have no idea how long…” He swallowed.
“How long?” I drank him in just as greedily, those muscular thighs and glutes. So much power and strength in those quads. He had a light dusting of hair on his legs and stomach, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at me, danced for me, earlier.
“I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.” He guided me over to one of the lounge chairs, grabbing a towel and laying it down over the woven slats before saying, “Lie down.”
His command sent a thrill through me, and I channeled my inner burlesque performer as I sank down into the chair, keeping my chest lifted.
Letting him look his fill as I slowly reclined, my movements like those of a dancer.
With my hands over my head, I stretched my hips from side to side, loving the way he looked as if he might pounce at any second.
“Spread your legs,” he rasped. “Let me see you. See how wet you are for me.”
With my feet perched on the chair, I slid my hands over my breasts then down my stomach and thighs until I reached my knees.
I pressed my palms to the skin there, gently pushing them apart like he’d asked.
I could feel how soaked my thong was, and I could only imagine what I looked like to him. Needy. Desperate. Wanton.
It’s how I felt.
I needed Frasier. I was desperate for this man. I didn’t want to restrain myself anymore, especially not with him.
He sank to his knees, watching me as I dragged my fingers back up my stomach and over my breasts, my throat and lips, until I linked my hands above my head. I was silently telling—no, begging—him to do whatever he wanted to me.
His eyes were hooded when they met mine, seeking my permission. He double tapped my thigh with his fingers, as if asking whether to proceed.
“Yes,” I sighed, loving that he’d checked in. “Frasier, please.”
“I could never refuse you anything, angel. Especially not when you ask so prettily.”
I smiled, squirming with anticipation. It felt as if everything had led up to this moment. And I needed his hands—his mouth—on me.
His eyes remained on mine as he leaned in, kissing my ankle then the inside of my knee. He massaged my calf as he worked his way up my thigh, kissing the skin at the juncture of my hip. He leaned in, nuzzling me through my underwear before groaning deep and loud.
Oh god.
When he dragged his tongue up my slit, underwear still between us, my hips bucked. He groaned, using his arm to pin me, placing his palms on my thighs to spread me wider. I felt so…exposed. Bared to him in every way possible.
He took his time exploring me, reaching up to brush my nipple before tweaking it until I was writhing and begging for more. Everything felt so good. I just needed… “More,” I said on a breathy sigh.
Finally, finally, he tugged my underwear to the side, and my entire body released a shiver of intense pleasure. I was already so close to the edge. It had been so long since I’d been touched, and I was aching for him.
I’d meant what I’d said the other day about self-care—my efforts had been hit or miss. And this was so much better than any toy in my arsenal. If his mouth and hands alone were this good, I could only imagine how incredible the sex would be. But I didn’t want to just imagine…
“More,” I pleaded, reaching up to cup my breasts. I pinched my nipples, and his eyes darkened even further.
“That’s it,” he said, inserting a finger, pumping in and out of me. “Look at that pretty pink pussy, glistening for me.”
“Yes.” Oh god, yes. The dirty talk. My toys certainly couldn’t do that either.
“Show me what makes you feel good,” he said, lips near my ear, trailing down my neck. “Show me what you need to get off.”
“You,” I croaked out. “I need. You.” The word came out breathy and desperate. I almost didn’t recognize my own voice.
He softened, slanting his mouth over mine. I could taste myself on his lips. I could taste him. Us.
Slowly, he kissed his way back down my body, goose bumps rising in the wake of his ministrations. Then his mouth was back on my clit, licking and sucking and teasing. He was like a man possessed. And I wanted to be owned by him so completely that I could think of—and feel—nothing else.
When he inserted a second finger, my hips bucked. “So…close.”
My body was rigid with anticipation, pulsing around him as he continued to worship me with his lips and his words. He was so tender and possessive, and every nerve ending was attuned to him.
When I started shaking, I knew I was on the verge of coming apart. I gasped and spluttered, instinct taking over. I’d almost forgotten what this was like—to give myself over to someone. To trust them with my body, my pleasure.
“That’s it, angel.” He used his free hand to link our fingers, his eyes locked on mine as he urged me to continue climbing, to reach that apex and then go over the edge.
I closed my eyes, crying out to the stars as I reached that point of no return.
But Frasier didn’t stop there. No, he kept going and going, pushing me for more, with his mouth, his hands, and his words, until I cried out again.
Until I was breathless, my body limp and sated.
I wasn’t in control of anything, and it was glorious.
Slowly, I came back down to earth, floating softly like a feather. It was such a powerful release—physically and emotionally. And I couldn’t help the tear that streaked down my cheek. Frasier hovered over me, kissing it away with such tenderness it made me ache.
“That…” He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “…was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
My cheeks heated at the realization that he’d been studying me, watching me.
I threaded my fingers through the hair at his nape, needing to ground myself.
We’d just crossed a huge line. Part of me wondered if I should be apprehensive or filled with regret.
Another part of me wondered why this didn’t feel more awkward.
Because it wasn’t. If anything, this felt like a natural extension of our friendship.
I felt happy and light, effervescent almost. “Thank you.”
He leaned his forehead to mine. “Thank you. For trusting me.”
I pulled him to me, smashing my mouth to his. Infusing the kiss with everything I couldn’t find the words to say. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
He brushed against me, and my nipples tightened. I wanted more. I wanted him. I reached down and gave his cock a few pumps. He was hard and heavy in my hand.
“Keep that up,” he panted, kissing me sloppily, “and I won’t last very long.”
I smirked when his abs clenched, sensing he was already close. “Good.”
“Jesus.” He scrubbed a hand over his head, the movement agitated. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, and I admired his long, dark lashes, the pink high on his cheekbones.
“Frasier.” I tried not to smile as I continued pumping. Not letting up. His body was a masterpiece, lean muscles and sinewy cords. I could watch him all day.
“Hmm?” He looked at me with a dazed expression, and I knew he was barely holding it together.
I slid his hand so it was covering my breast, needing that contact.
He tweaked my nipple, making me gasp. In return, I cupped his balls, experimenting to see what felt good to him.
What turned him on and sent him flying. He said something unintelligible, his movements jerky as I flicked his tip with my tongue.
“Let go,” I said. “Make a mess of me.”