You and Everything After

“Tyson,” she breathes out my name, my full name. Fuck, I have never loved my name more than I do right now.

I lay her back gently and lean over her to the side, my lips still on hers and my hand cradling the side of her face. She is like a furnace, the heat radiating from her neck and chest. I know her body is as much in control of her decisions as mine is.

I slow our kiss and let my hand glide down her cheek until I’m only touching her with the tips of my fingers. Like a feather, I trace the profile of her body through the thin cotton of her tank top. I slow as I come to the crest of her breast so I can admire how hard her nipple is underneath. I love this shirt. I don’t know who makes it, but I want to invest in their company, and then fill Cass’s closet with nothing but this simple, thin, white tank top.

My hand slows around the curve of her breast, and I allow myself one squeeze, pulling the peak in between my thumb and finger until I can finally see the pink color show through her shirt. I want to bite that. I should bite that.

Lowering my head, I glance at her face first; her eyes are closed, the lip back at home between her teeth, and it makes me smirk. This is one of her tells. If this were a poker game, I would know she’s all in. Her eyes flutter open when she feels me move. I smile softly, and touch my finger to her hardened nipple.

“I’m going to kiss this now, if that’s okay,” I say, studying her every move, every breath. She nods slowly. I let the coarseness of the fabric glide across my tongue as I take her breast into my mouth, until I can no longer stand the barrier. I pull her shirt up and over her breasts roughly.

Goddamn, she is built like a goddess. Her body is so muscular, but not in that gross, posing, I-want-a-protein-shake-sponsorship kind of way. It’s still soft, and supple and…oh yes. It tastes so good. As my lips finally make contact with her bare skin, she arches into me. I reach around her body, caging her in my arms, and lifting her to my mouth so I can suck harder, until she’s almost raw.

I let her fall back to the mattress and look down at her. She’s breathing even harder now, and her body is covered in a light sheen of sweat. I don’t think I have ever been so turned on in my entire life. This is it. I’m no longer in control.

“You are so goddamned beautiful,” I say, her eyes opening when I speak, her smile curling at the corners of her lips again. “And I want to consume you. My eyes, they don’t know what to take in first, and my mouth wants to taste every inch.”

I attack her lips again, but this time she rolls me onto my back, her warm hands finding their way to the bottom of the T-shirt, pulling it up just enough so I feel her hot skin press against mine. For the briefest moment, I’m afraid I am being too aggressive, that I’ll scare her. But she seems to be craving this, craving me like this.

Cass moves to her knees, straddling me at the waist, and slowly works my shirt over my head, kissing a trail down my neck, chest and stomach—she is about to see how hot she makes me. Something clicks inside me. I reach down and touch her face, stroking the hair away that’s fallen into her eyes. I don’t want to push her, make her feel like she isn’t something special. Because she is. She’s the most special person I’ve ever met.

“Baby, you don’t have to—” I start, and she puts her fingers to my lips to stop me cold.

“Shhhhh,” she says. “Don’t call me baby.” Her smile is wicked, and I know she feels me react beneath her, my hardness pressed against her bare breasts, dying to be set free from the damn jeans I’m wearing.

I pull her head to me again, holding her mouth just a few inches from mine, looking back and forth from her lips to her eyes—just so I can savor this moment before I roughly crash my mouth into hers, my tongue exploring every inch of her, and my teeth tugging at her lips each time she tries to free herself. I feel her hands working at my jeans, struggling, so I let go of her face long enough to help her. Soon, she’s pulling them down my legs to the floor.

She’s standing before me—nothing but a small pair of cotton shorts on, and I swear I’ve found religion. Everything about her is like a gift, and as much as I want to hurry up, to push inside her and feel everything that I’m seeing…I also want to take my time. We have the entire night, and I want to use it all up.

“I think I might just be addicted to you,” I say, holding myself up on my elbows and reaching forward to tug at the waistband of her shorts. She catches my hand when I do and holds it in place—not because she’s scared, but because she wants to seduce me more. She wants to take control of everything, and that…that’s scary to me. But I let her have it. I give it over and hold my breath.