Chapter 24 Lois #2
His left hand rests on my other thigh, inching up and pausing for a moment, giving me a chance to push him back.
Once he’s sure I want it just as badly as he does, I feel his palms move in to cup my ass, and I think I might be intoxicated.
I want him to kiss me so badly, but instead his lips graze the skin behind my ear, unbearably close, with an unrelenting, erotic restraint.
I’m fighting hard to stay quiet, but my body betrays me.
I tilt my head to the side, giving him better access to cover my throat with kisses, my fingers clinging to the edge of the sink.
When his tongue trails up from the nape of my neck, my mouth falls open in a silent “Oh,” and I rise on my toes to follow his movement.
I lift myself up and then down and then up again, my breasts pressing harder into his chest. I can’t see his face, but I can tell he’s tuned in to every one of my reactions, his hands reading me.
“How does this feel?” he asks, his voice husky, the words hot against my neck.
He nips me lightly, and I turn his question over in my mind, searching his eyes with mine.
“What?”
“Does it feel good?”
I was desperate for us to talk, but right now his questions just make me feel awkward. I can tell there’s more to what he’s asking, but this is Lane—the most confusing guy I’ve ever met.
He slides his hands up to my waist and strokes my sides with his thumbs, staring me straight in the eye. He’s waiting for me to reply, but he’s being so weird and intense, it’s putting a damper on the mood.
“Are you doing this because of Kirk?” I blurt out, the realization hitting me as I say the words aloud.
He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to. His eyes say it all. A part of me is upset, another part can’t be bothered to care—the part that’s hungry for his mouth. His eyes stay locked on mine.
I tilt my chin up. “It’s not bad.”
He frowns. I frown back. My skin is cooling, and I shudder.
He takes a step back, his gaze trailing down from my lips to my towel to the tops of my thighs, and just as I’m about to ask what’s going on, he grabs me by the hand and pulls me into the living room.
I drag my heels and yank my arm, but it’s no use.
When we get to the couch, Lane spins me around and pushes me backward, sending me tumbling back into the cushions, and as I make to sit up, he’s already on top of me, one hand pressing down on my shoulder.
“What is going on?” I prop myself up on my elbows.
The big question. I’ve been dying to ask it—too scared to ask it—since New Year’s Eve, and now here I am, practically begging him for an answer.
He flashes me a grin, and my heart skips a beat.
Without a word, his hand slips between my legs, his smile turning wicked as he feels how wet I am.
He gently traces my lips, and a moan escapes me.
My body is thirsty for more, every inch of my skin crying out for his touch, and I’m so sure he’s about to push me to the brink again, nudge me over the edge like he did the last time, when he suddenly scoots back to the end of the couch, parts the towel draped over my legs, and vanishes between my thighs.
I clamp my legs shut over his head, and he groans in response, pushing my knee aside with one hand.
“Lane, wait.”
He can’t be doing this, it’s too…
He lifts his head and looks up at me. “Should I stop?”
He hasn’t even started, and I’m already throbbing.
I look down at him. Look down at us. I don’t know what to say.
Is this what I want? Kirk’s the only guy who’s ever touched me like this, and I’m expecting to feel somewhat guilty.
I can’t just relax and let it all go—that’s just not me.
And anyway—what if me and Lane aren’t on the same page?
I need this to mean something, I’m scared of losing myself. I’m scared of…
“Lois?”
He’s so close, I can feel his breath against the delicate skin between my legs, and my common sense flies out the window. Slowly, I shake my head. I just want to see whether it’s as good as I’ve been imagining, that’s all. No big deal, right?
I watch as he moves closer, sinking lower between my thighs, and leaving trails of kisses on his way down.
His breath ghosts over my slick folds, and the first featherlight kiss he plants there is a slow shock that ripples through me, and I gasp, hips jerking.
He looks up at me through roguish eyes and pins my thighs with his hands, thumbs caressing.
I swear I can feel his smile against me.
And then, with torturous patience, he drags his tongue in one slow stroke from my entrance to my clit, and my vision goes white.
“How does this feel?” he asks, circling my clit with his tongue.
That damn question again. My mind is racing—nothing makes sense anymore.
Every fiber of my being is on fire, my breath hot and shallow.
I never expected to have this with anyone other than Kirk, let alone Lane.
He relaxes his grip on my knee, stroking my inner thigh, his eyes still boring into mine, as if he can read the contents of my soul.
His cockiness has loosened, giving way to something quieter, more cautious, as if Lane were suddenly as nervous as I am.
I’ve always thought of him as this experienced guy, but now I’m seeing him in a whole new light.
This vulnerable side of him is new to me, and I love how it makes me feel. Careful.
“What about this?”
He gently sucks on my clit, and my mind starts drifting away from my body, and I shake my head, unable to reply. I don’t even know what he’s asking me.
“Or this?”
When he slides his tongue inside me, I lose control, arching my back, my elbows giving way beneath me as I fall back into the cushions. My fingers claw at his hair, and he lets out a low sound against me.
“That’s it,” he murmurs between strokes, “good girl.” Then he starts to suck and lick, drinking in every gasp and whimper he pulls from me.
“Tell me how it feels.” He runs his tongue flat over just the right spot, again and again. “Tell me. Or do you not want to feel good anymore?”
All I can do is moan in response, the sound raw.
Lane’s grip tightens as he pushes my legs higher, spreading me wider, and the last of my thoughts shatter.
The only thing that exists is the heat building low in my belly, climbing higher with every second of his touch.
It’s like he knows exactly how to ruin me.
His tongue flicks and circles, teasing the edges of my clit, and when he finally slides a finger inside me, curling it deep, I cry out.
He pumps it slowly, curling again, while his mouth sucks and laps in a rhythm that has my vision spinning.
The pleasure builds, coiling tighter, until it’s all I can feel—Lane, and the way he’s devouring me like he’ll never get enough.
At some point, his hands move up to lace with mine, and I cling to his fingers, strangling them with every wave of ecstasy that crashes through me. I tug him closer—or maybe he pulls me in—I can’t tell anymore. It’s messy, desperate, and all-consuming.
Once I return to my senses, I roll over and collapse against the couch.
Lane is panting hard as he rests his cheek against my pubic bone, wiping his mouth dry on my skin.
As my pulse settles, the weight that’s pinning me down starts to lift, and I stare up, my eyes wide and wild.
My legs are shaking. I gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in my eyes.
When I feel Lane stir, I clamp my mouth shut, turning away as he retreats down the hallway, listening to the bathroom door open and close.
And then nothing. I’m alone here on the couch, struggling to make sense of what just happened.
Our friendship just took a sharp turn off the beaten track, and Lane is in the driver’s seat.
I’m putting my trust in a driver who won’t talk to me.
And I have no clue where we’re headed or how we’re getting there.
My skin is on fire—so why am I shivering so hard?