Chapter 30 Hattie #2
“And did you touch yourself?” My lips part on an honest reply, but no sound comes out because he’s pushing my panties to the side and plunging a finger inside of me with no hesitation or warning.
My forehead falls to his shoulder with a moan.
“Did you think about me doing this to you while touching yourself, Hattie Jo?”
He curls the middle finger inside of me, and I suck in a shaky breath.
“I had to,” I finally answer, though my words are muffled against his shirt. “I—oh my god, Heston. It feels so good. I want more.”
He was never much of a tease, and I’m glad to know that hasn’t changed. As soon as he pulls his finger out, he pushes right back in, adding a second one this time.
I screw my eyes shut and shamelessly rock my hips forward. My mouth hangs open, but I don’t give into the urge to scream out in pleasure because I’d never ruin an obligatory moment of silence for the male species’ greatest contribution to society—big hands.
Flutters erupt in my lower abdomen. I bite back another urge to cry out as I press my forehead harder into his shoulder. God, they’re good. Big, strong, rugged hands.
Heston turns his face to speak low into my ear. “Take your shirt off.”
Not gonna happen. He thinks I can move right now? His fingers are working inside me relentlessly, moving like they’ve been denied their sole purpose for existing until tonight.
“I can’t,” I admit through a long moan.
“I’ll have to pull my fingers out of your cunt to do it myself, then.” He presses the heel of his palm over my clit, still stroking my inner walls. “And I really don’t want to do that.”
My body reacts instantly, and I lean back to lift the hem of my shirt over my head.
“That, too,” he requests, nodding to my bralette.
The moment I’m completely topless, his free hand moves up to palm my left breast. The muscle in his jaw ticks, he lets out a groan, and his thumb rubs roughly over my nipple.
My tongue darts out, and he leans forward to cover it with a deep kiss.
I tangle both of my hands through his hair. With complete certainty, I can say I have never needed to come so badly in my life.
Heston must sense my desperation, because he’s pulling his fingers out and lifting me off his lap in the next second.
I land on my back toward the end of the bed with a bounce.
I think I hear a rip when he yanks my panties off, but I don’t care.
The moment he’s on top of me, he crashes his mouth down to mine once again.
Another whimper escapes my throat when he leaves my mouth to plant a trail of hungry kisses down my body instead.
Every one of my body parts feels like it’s on fire, and I wish I could somehow draw this out.
It’s impossible to last much longer when his mouth covers my clit, though.
He sucks it into his mouth, grips the back of my thighs to push my legs up, and my jaw unhinges.
His tongue turns languid—switching between unhurried traces to savor the taste, and deliberate swipes over my clit.
I glance down for a moment, which turns out to be a huge mistake.
All I see are his massive, broad shoulders, his head of thick brown hair between my legs, and the veins on the back of his hand as he squeezes my thighs.
Lord, have mercy.
I fall back and cover my eyes with the crook of my elbow. My hips lift off the mattress on their own, and when he adds his fingers once again, I’m officially helpless.
My whole body tightens, and Heston’s low groan adds a vibration that sends me over the edge. He’s pulling out every trapped bit of pleasure from my body at once, and all I’m left with are shaking legs and ragged breaths.
I want to touch him as the bed dips beside me. But my brain can’t convince my limbs to regain their feeling, and I work to ground myself from the floating sensation instead.
Heston removes my arm from my eyes and swipes the hair from my face to kiss my jaw. My only response is to smile weakly through a series of quick, panting breaths. He lifts me into his arms and falls back onto the pillows against the headboard.
He chuckles. “Don’t die on me.”
“No promises,” I mumble blissfully, eyes still closed.
Only when I feel his impossibly hard length pushing against my stomach does my body finally snap out of its daze. I turn my head to plant open-mouthed kisses on his chest while my hand drifts down to his briefs.
“Fuck,” he grits out when I palm him over the fabric.
Despite the tingles still lingering through my body, I feel a new rush of frenzied excitement.
I lock eyes with him after pushing away from his upper body.
His hips lift off the bed while I pull his briefs over them and down his legs.
Pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth, I wrap my fingers around him and squeeze lightly.
“Take off your shirt,” I tell him. He looks like he might choke, which makes me smirk, but he doesn’t move or look away from me. I raise a brow and stroke him once. “Not so easy, is it?”
His jaw shifts. In one fluid movement, he leans forward to grip the back of his collar with one hand and yanks the t-shirt over his head. If I thought it’d drive him to a new level of crazy, I’d double down and call him a good boy. But we both know he’s not the type for that sexy sentiment.
And frankly, neither am I.
My core clenches again just thinking about how silly it’d be to even suggest such a thing.
I almost laugh as my eyes linger over the dark brown hair on his wide chest. My free hand lifts to smooth over his hard pecs, the scars near his shoulder, and then back through the short, surprisingly soft chest hair.
No, he’s a man. And when it comes to sex, calling Heston a good boy is the furthest thing from accurate.
He takes my hand in his grip and turns it over to kiss the inside of my wrist. “You’re mine.”
His deep baritone floods the surface of my skin with prickly tingles. I want to kiss him. Feel him inside me. Never leave this damn room again.
Our lips fuse together when I push up and crash into his chest. There’s an ease about it that I know I’d never feel with anyone else. We kiss like we were made for each other.
I want more, so I lift my right leg to straddle him again, but he stops me with a firm grip on my knee. Pulling back, I give him a questioning look.
“Scoot back,” he orders. “I want your mouth.”