Chapter 5 Andrea #3
He made a quiet sound against my mouth and kissed me back, slowly, his lips parting with mine.
I felt the weight of him shift, the faint pressure of his mouth changing as he adjusted to me.
His hand came up, careful and warm against my side.
The kiss deepened, and I pressed into it without thinking.
He slowed it deliberately, like he was making space for me to keep up.
I broke away and stepped back, both my hands still on his chest. What even was that?
“Okay,” I said, more to myself than to him. I rested my forehead against him, my right hand tightening briefly in his T-shirt.
When I looked up, his eyes were dark. Nothing like what I’d seen that afternoon while we’d laughed and joked over drinks.
Fuck.
This man was far from funny.
“Andrea, are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” My words came out raw, any polish smudged away.
His gaze moved from my eyes and down my jaw, then lower.
I turned my face to the side. His breath brushed my skin, a soft inhale just below my ear.
He put his hands on my upper arms and turned me gently, my head still angled away.
The pause in his movements felt intentional.
Please.
A kiss just below my ear, then lower, warm air against my neck. His hand slid to my waist, then tightened—less careful than before.
I felt his teeth graze my collarbone and heard a small, light sound, almost like a groan. Pretty sure that was me.
His hands moved over me like they meant it now, strong and confident, up my sides, thumbs pressing into my ribs, fingers stopping just beneath my bra.
I grabbed his shirt and stepped back, but as I did so, the bed caught my calves, and I fell backward, pulling him on top.
He stopped himself before his weight settled over me, the mattress dipping beneath us.
We paused, his face inches from mine.
“Okay?” he said quietly.
His thighs were between mine, bracing against the bed, arms on either side of my shoulders.
“Mmm.” My hands fell back as I released his shirt, landing on the soft cotton of my rumpled duvet. I opened my legs and inhaled … I needed him to kiss me again.
I pulled him down onto me, and his mouth found mine before either of us had fully decided what to do next. What are we even doing? The kiss wasn’t as measured this time—there was something more behind it.
His right hand slid from my waist down over my hip, finding the tangled skirt of my dress, hitched up like it had been planning this all day.
He stopped for a second, and I felt him exhale against my mouth.
Then his hand slipped lower, his palm grazing the exposed skin of my upper thigh.
His fingertips hooked onto the edge of my skirt, and he tugged at the fabric, trying to pull it up.
I lifted my hips without thinking, the movement drawing another sound from his throat as the dress slid upward.
“Andrea, Jesus.”
The kiss broke only long enough for him to murmur my name before his mouth came back to mine.
I grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up his back toward his neck. In one swift movement, he pulled the entire thing over his head and threw it onto the floor, and I ran my fingers over his shoulders. The skin was smooth and warm, his muscles taut.
How is it he feels even better than he looks?
He rolled to the side and pulled me over him, my legs straddling his hips, pushing my dress up.
“Zip,” I gasped.
“Right.” He reached for the fiddly tag against my spine, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Sorry,” I said, fumbling behind me for the zipper. Where the fuck is it? Damn this dress.
He sat up so we were facing each other and held my face softly in his hands, kissing me full and tenderly on the lips.
I turned my face to the right and let the soft scratch of his stubble graze my skin, and he dropped his hands from my face.
I felt them float over my arms, then down, below my breasts, the pressure firm through the thick fabric of my bra.
His hands slipped lower, back on my waist, and I felt woozy, pressed against his crotch, just two thin layers of cotton separating us.
I’m already so wet.
Could he feel it through his sweatpants?
Right now, I don’t care.
His touch was gentle, explorative, as he reached around my waist and slowly separated the zipper.
Then he lifted my arms and raised the dress, pulling it over my head.
The stretchy fabric snagged, my breasts holding it in place—come on, dress, get off me!
Moments later, I’d released the material, and the dress flew off and over my head.
Somewhere next to the bed, I heard a faint clink as my water glass tipped and fell onto the carpet with a gentle thunk.
Is that water spilling onto my hair irons? Do I even care?
The clasp of my bra was the last hurdle, and I stretched my arm behind me to undo it, but he grabbed my wrist and placed it gently on his shoulder.
A tightening of elastic around my back, then a snap, and the bra loosened.
My breasts fell free, and he leaned back, dropping his eyes to my chest as he slowly lifted the lace cups up and away.
His gaze felt like the lightest touch. My back arched slightly, the movement sending a feathery shiver from the nape of my neck down my spine and around my ribs as my nipples hardened.
He sat up again, eyes on mine, and dragged a finger around the side of my right breast. When he leaned forward, I felt his mouth on my nipple. Holy shit.
The heat from his mouth felt like it had tripped a wire straight to my clit. I inhaled sharply and closed my eyes as his tongue flicked over the end of it, then around and around again, light but deliberate. His other hand circled and lifted my left breast, then squeezed it gently.
I could feel him under me, hard and hot, pressing into the thin fabric of my underwear, and I reached down to feel it with my palm. It was so firm. Right there. For me.
A sound tore out of him like he hadn’t meant to make it. My head dropped back as he tightened the pressure against my nipple with his mouth, dragging a nail in a light circle against the underside of my other breast.
I groaned too. I wanted to push myself into him, to pull the tension in my breasts into some sort of ending. But instead of giving me what I needed, he slowed down, the movement even more delicate. It was almost too much.
Then he stopped.
What is he doing?
His tongue was poised on the end of my nipple, not moving.
He licked it again, slowly, then raised his eyes to mine, his breath skimming my skin.
His hips moved beneath mine, just once, his hardness pushing up against me like it could split me open.
I wanted the fabric separating us gone …
I couldn’t stand it. My breath came out hard and short, and I inhaled again, too quickly, like I couldn’t quite hold the air in my lungs.
“Condom,” I rasped. I didn’t have one. Hopefully, he did, or I was going to do something I might regret.
“Right.” He stopped, then leaned forward and kissed me, his right thumb rubbing the edge of my chin as he cradled my face.
He dropped his hands to my shoulders and gently moved me to one side, hopping off the bed.
I lay back and looked at the ceiling. Hurry, Liam, please have one. Every inch of my skin tingled.
The slap of a wallet flipping open, then he was back on the bed, kneeling between my knees. I sat up halfway, leaning back on my elbows.
“Where was I?” He smiled, eyes warm, clouded with intensity. “Somewhere … like this?”
His eyes dropped from my face to my neck, then down over my breasts, my stomach, and between my legs.
Can he see how wet I am through the white knickers?
He leaned forward, one hand on the outside of each thigh, and ran his palms up to the outside of my hips, rotating his grip so his thumbs dipped into the soft hollow between my legs where the skin met the cotton of my underpants.
I drew breath again, too sharply. His thumbs stayed there, gently pressing, stroking upward, his fingers resting lightly on my inner thighs.
Then he moved his hands farther apart and slipped a finger into the elastic on either side, pulling the fabric down.
This time, I barely needed to move my hips—but I wanted to.
He sat backward so my legs could close just enough to take off the knickers, then moved closer again and pushed my legs apart, his eyes fixed on the space between my thighs. He glanced up at my face, then back down.
“Fuck. Andrea. You’re perfect.”
I felt my cheeks burn, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I’d never been looked at like this before. It felt … dangerous.
But I don’t want you to stop.
His mouth opened slightly, the tip of his tongue just visible, then he dropped his head into the gap, stopping barely an inch above me. I heard him inhale, the soft click of his throat, his breath warm above me, making me tighten without thinking. He pushed my thighs apart, opening me up even more.
I wanted to shift my legs and arch my back, but I felt like I couldn’t move—like I had to wait for whatever he was going to do.
He dipped his head very slightly, then I felt it—the tip of his tongue right there, just next to my clit, hot and wet, testing.
So close. My head fell back, and I closed my eyes, swamped in sensation.
His tongue slid lower, flicked over my opening, then circled back to where it had started.
I felt the pressure building, like I was breaking open and clenching all at once.
“Liam. Please.”
He ignored me.