“You’ve had experience in this, have you?” I should have just shut up and gone home. Pushing him wasn’t going to change things, and in the end, I’d be more embarrassed than I already was.
He smiled sheepishly. “Actually, no. But having gotten to know you over the last year, I can see you’re not an impulsive woman. Everything you do is with a plan. Men, on the other hand, tend to be a slave to urges. It’s like an itch.”
“You don’t think women have urges?” I did. My entire body hummed with need for him to touch me.
“Yes. But they’re also able to control them. As you clearly do.”
I was finding it hard not to lean forward through the foot-wide chasm between us and plant my lips on his. What kept me from following that urge was that his statement suggested that, as a man, he wouldn’t be able to control a sexual urge. I was practically throwing myself at him, so if he was a slave to his urge, he’d have taken me up on my clear offer. That meant he didn’t feel an urge with me. Of course, he didn’t. He saw me as a college kid, not a sensual woman.
Realizing I’d started leaning toward him, I shifted back, swallowing the burn of embarrassment.
“I’ve hurt your feelings,” he said, his voice soft and concerned. His empathy was another thing I loved about him. Why couldn’t he be a jerk?
I shook my head. “It’s not your fault that you don’t find me attractive.”
His brows narrowed. “I never said that.”
I pursed my lips in annoyance. “You just said men can’t control their urges. If that’s true, it means you have no urges around me.”
He stared at me for a long moment, and I had a feeling he was having a tug-of-war with himself.
“I have an urge,” he finally said.
“Don’t patronize me.” For some reason, his lying about it hurt me more than knowing I didn’t turn him on.
“You don’t believe me?”
“No.”
Again, he stared at me like he was trying to decide his next move. Finally, he took my hand and pressed it over his groin. My eyes widened as I felt the steel length of his arousal. I slid my fingers around it to gauge its girth. I ran them along the length. Like everything else about Dylan, it was impressive.
He hissed a breath. “See? Urge.”
My gaze went to his eyes, which were now blazing. It made my body heat up to scorching. I felt like I’d die if he didn’t touch me.
“I want to see you,” I said, my words coming out breathless.
“Tessa …”
I squeezed his dick hard, making him gasp.
“I’m not asking for something you can’t give.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice was rough.
“I do. I’m not naïve, just inexperienced. I want to learn. I want you to teach me.” I stroked his dick again, loving how it felt. I desperately wanted to see it. To touch it without the barrier of his jeans.
“Ah, fuck, Tessa.”
I’d never heard him use the f-word before, and the sound of it, gruff and desperate, made my pussy throb.
I wouldn’t have thought of myself as being sexually brazen, so I wasn’t sure why I said, “I’ve had orgasms before. I think of you when I do.”
“Jesus … you don’t play fair.” His breathing was harsh as he looked at me. I could see need in his dark eyes and it made me feel powerful.
“I’m not playing, Dylan.” Taking a move from his book, I took his hand and put it over my breast. I gasped when his palm covered my sensitive nipple through my t-shirt and a wave of liquid desire washed through my body straight to my pussy. “I’m wet, too.”
He growled as his fingers pinched my nipple. “We’re going to regret this.”
I didn’t have a chance to deny it, because then his mouth captured mine. His kiss was hard, desperate, and all-consuming, sending a blaze of liquid heat through my veins. I gripped his head, wanting to stay like that forever. He tasted exactly like I thought he would, dark and sexy.
His hands slid under my shirt, pulling it up. I yanked it off and tossed it aside as he undid the front clasp and freed my breasts.
“Fuck.”
I looked into his face, wondering if he was going to stop.
His gaze lifted from my chest to my face. “You have amazing tits.”
It was the nicest thing he could have said. But I didn’t have time to respond because his mouth was sucking on a nipple, and the most delicious sensations coursed through my body as his mouth tugged and sucked.
I let out a gasp and held his head to my breast. I felt each suckle in my pussy and I wondered if I’d come just from that. How embarrassing that would be? To distract myself from the growing tension, I tugged at his shirt. He grabbed the back of his shirt over his head and yanked it off.
I pressed my palms to the most perfect sculpted chest I’d ever seen. I flicked my tongue over a nipple, loving the way he hissed in response.
“Tessa …”
There was something in his voice that had me worried he was about to put the brakes on. To make sure he didn’t, I quickly undid the button of his jeans, yanked the zipper down, and ran my finger over the tip of his dick. The skin was velvety soft and damp.
“Jesus,” he groaned. In a flurry of movement, we finished undressing, he pushed me back on the couch, and then his mouth was on my breasts again. I reached between us, wanting to touch him. To discover every long, thick inch of his dick.
It was amazing how much my body responded to him. My pussy throbbed with wanting him inside it. My nipples were hard and aching. I’d been aroused before, but never like this. Never like I’d die if I didn’t come.
“I want
