Cohen’s words cause a thrill to skate over my skin. His eyes darken, hunger and want shadowing his irises. The stubble on his jaw is sexy and when he rubs his palm over his chin, the sound erupts in the air like tiny fireworks.
Every part of my body is on high alert. I ache for the drag of his tongue down the column of my neck, for the nip of his teeth on my hips, and to feel arousal pulse and pool between my thighs.
How can he unravel me with one look? With simple words? He’s barely touched me and I’m nearly ready to detonate. Or melt. I don’t care which as long as it’s with him.
“Show me,” I murmur, my voice throaty.
Cohen’s hand fists the ends of my hair, and he tugs lightly so my face lifts. “Look at me,” he commands.
I do.
“This means something, champ. This means something big.” His eyes search mine, confirming that I want to take this leap. Trust in him and the future.
“Show me,” I repeat.
Relief and regret both flicker in his expression. Before I can read into either, his mouth descends on mine. His mouth is soft, his want hard. His lips pry mine open and his tongue dips inside to dance with mine.
I hook my hands on his shoulders to pull myself closer and when his erection grinds into my stomach, he sucks on my tongue and I groan.
Cohen cups my cheeks, angles my head, and kisses me deeper. His kisses ride an emotional wave of desire, need, and want with an undercurrent of affection and respect. It’s heady and intoxicating as much as reassuring and caressing.
He makes my head spin and my heart gallop.
I grasp his wrists and feel his mouth curve into a smile against the corner of mine. “I got you, love.”
Love. I sigh.
He savors.
Cohen continues to kiss and touch, his thumbs brushing arcs over my cheekbones, his palms skimming my cheeks, as he relocates us to the bed. He lays me down, drinks me in, and lets loose with a litany of swears that sound like a prayer.
I blush at his dirty words, and he shakes his head. Then, he grips his shirt behind his neck and rips it off in one sharp tug.
My tongue hits the center of my bottom lip as I take in the glory of his body. Hard ridges, abs for days, muscles that coil and roll in his shoulders.
My hands lift and I dust my palms over his smooth pecs. He dips over me and catches my palm, anchoring it to his chest. His heart beats steady and soothing against my hand.
“This is different,” he states, his eyes boring into mine. “You’re different, Rai.”
“So are you.”
“I’ve never… I’ve never done this before and felt this much.”
I shiver. His words slay me. How can he be so honest? Vulnerable?
How can he want me?
“Cohen,” I murmur.
He shakes his head, my arm folding between us as he practically lowers himself into a pushup, hovering inches over my frame. “Don’t say anything, Rai. I just want you to know: being with you, it’s everything.”
He kisses me again and I open for him. My lips part and my knees fall to the sides. I accommodate his body between my legs, and he wastes no time dragging his mouth down to my chest.
His touch is sure but his pace is exploratory. It’s like he wants to kiss and touch and memorize every inch of my body. It’s like he’s scared he won’t get to do it again tomorrow.
But he will. I’ll let him do this every damn day.
I arch up as he tugs the cup of my bra down, trussing up my breast. The cold air causes my nipple to pebble, and he flicks his tongue over the point. The heat from his mouth chases the goose bumps on my skin and I groan again, fisting his hair.
He sucks my breast into his mouth and lavishes it with his attention. My legs open wider, and he grinds even closer. The space between us becomes nonexistent as we melt together in a dance, a rhythm, that’s more natural than breathing.
With Cohen, I’m not self-conscious or anticipating what comes next. No, I’m wholly in the moment, letting his touch consume me.
His mouth travels to my other breast before his hands squeeze my waist and he moves lower. The scrape of his teeth along my ribs, the lightning-fast flick of his tongue over my belly button, the heat of his mouth against my core.
“Cohen,” I warble as he hooks my legs over his shoulders.
He grins at me, a playful expression with bedroom eyes, as his knees hit the floor and he drags me to the edge of the bed.
“Let me eat, Rai.”
I shiver.
“Gonna devour this sweet pussy,” he continues, dragging two fingers over my slit.
His touch is painstakingly slow, and I buck against it.
Cohen grabs my thighs and holds them open. He runs his tongue over the seam of my thong, pressing the rough lace over my sensitive folds.
“Oh, God,” I mutter.
He does it again. And again.
On the fourth pass, he snaps my thong at the hip and lets it fall away.
“Uh,” I stutter, sitting up on my elbows. “Again?”
“I’ll buy you more,” he promises.
Before I can make a fuss, his mouth is on my clit. His tongue is in me. The sound of him lapping up my arousal cuts the air.
And I nearly fucking die.
My eyes roll back in my head as I flop onto my back.
“So fucking wet,” he mutters, smacking his lips.
My cheeks heat because he’s right. I’m dripping for him.
“So fucking good.”
He draws my clit into his mouth and shoves two fingers into my channel and I cry out, my back lifting off the bed. Pressure builds in my core, tightens in my limbs, causes my body to tremor.
“Thatta girl,” Cohen coos. “Come for me, baby. Show me how much you want my cock.”
“Fuck,” I cry.
Cohen’s words coax as much of a reaction from my body as his touch.
He adds a third finger and pulses his tongue against the little bundle of nerves.
I grind my pussy against his face. I’m close. So fucking close.
“Don’t stop,” I demand.
He curls his fingers in response and sucks hard on my clit.
I shatter. Break apart at the seams and swear wildly as the most intense pleasure of my life wracks through my veins. It’s a tidal wave of rapture, flooding my senses with pure satisfaction. It’s a release of epic proportions and I ride it.
Cohen helps by keeping his fingers inside me and pressing gentle kisses to my inner thighs.
“Holy shit,” I wheeze, floating back to reality.
“You’re gorgeous when you come,” he says truthfully.
I drag my eyes open and stare down at him. He pulls his fingers out slowly and smears my want over my hips and up my stomach. Then, he laps it up like a dog and I fucking die.
His fingers caress my nipples, coating them with my arousal. He sucks them greedily.
“Cohen,” I whimper. My body is wrung out. Even my flesh feels over-sensitive.
“So good, Rai,” he murmurs.
I grab his face and pull his mouth to mine, kissing him deeply. I taste my want on his tongue, and it flips a switch, making me want him again.
I feel insatiable. All I want is Cohen Campbell.
His hard length jerks against my thigh.
“Get inside me, Cohen.”
He chuckles, burying his face into my shoulder and biting my neck.
I widen my legs for him, trying to line us up.
“You want my cock, Rai?” He pulls back to look at me.
“Badly,” I acknowledge.
I didn’t think it was possible for Cohen to look more sinful, but his expression changes. The playful transforms into a hardness. A want so powerful, it’s borderline possessive.
And I like it.
He sits back on his knees. Fists his cock. Pumps it slowly.
A bead of precum forms and his thumb brushes it away.
I watch in fascination, unable to blink.
“You want me to pound into you?” Cohen asks.
I rub my thighs together, wanting him to soothe the ache that’s forming again. Will I ever get enough?
Probably not.
“Tell me,” he demands.
“I want you to fuck me, Cohen. Hard. Relentlessly. Until I’m screaming your name,” I admit, surprised by my honesty.
His eyes blow as he groans, pumping faster for two strokes.
“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me. I love that my good girl has such a dirty mouth,” he mutters, smacking the inside of my thigh. He reaches for his wallet on the nightstand and pulls out a condom, quickly rolling it on.
Then, he settles between my legs, lines us up, and holds my eyes. “Watch me take you, Rai. Watch how perfectly we fit. Don’t you dare blink.”
He pushes inside. Tantalizingly slow.
I watch, enraptured, as my body stretches to accommodate his length.
When he bottoms out, we both sigh in relief. Cohen presses into me, our chests rubbing against each other’s. His one hand holds my face, the other hooks behind my thigh. He kisses me once, hard and needy, and then he pulls out and drives back in.
“Oh, God, Cohen,” I moan.
“That’s it,” he says, setting a pace that is the relentless I asked for. “That’s my girl.”
Cohen fucks me hard and fast. He swears through his release and collapses next to me. The bed dips as he discards the condom on the floor and reaches for a new one.
“What?” I pant as he rips open the wrapper.
Cohen grins at me wickedly. “Not done with you yet.”
I’ve barely recovered from my second orgasm when he rolls on the fresh condom.
My eyes widen.
“You can take it,” he murmurs, his hands caressing my hips. “Trust me.”
I nod; I do.
Cohen enters me again and I wince at the twinge of soreness. Then, he kisses me sweetly, reverently, completely.
I relax under his touch, and he showers me with affection. Gentle hands and deep, soulful kisses.
“My beautiful love,” he sighs. “You’re pure perfection.”
I mewl.
This time, he fucks me slowly. Thoroughly. And something changes.
Feelings I never experience blossom in my chest. My thighs quiver. My hands clutch at his biceps. I hold him flush against me. He cradles me into his frame.
We come together as one. Choosing and claiming. Acknowledging and accepting.
“My sweet Raia,” Cohen sighs.
Our sex is more like lovemaking. Slow and steady. Deep and passionate.
We come on the same exhale, breathing in each other’s words, our names a sigh on both our lips.