I almost whimper, and he hasn't even touched me yet.
"We're not done," he says.
His mouth is on mine before I can form a response. His lips are hot and demanding, stealing the air from my lungs, stealing the ground from under my feet. There's nothing careful about it. Nothing hesitant. It's all certainty. All heat.
I gasp against his mouth—a mistake, because he takes the opening, deepening the kiss with a low, frustrated sound that feels ripped out of him.
His hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back, as he plunges his tongue to tangle it with mine. Oh, dear God. Tom knows how to kiss. Like, really, really knows.
I make a sound I've never made before, and I stand on my toes, sliding my hands across his chest and looping my arms around his neck. I meet him with equal force, my teeth catching his lower lip, pushing back as hard as he’s pulling.
"Fuck, Tate."
The door closes behind him—I don't remember moving, don't remember pulling him inside. Suddenly, we're in my apartment, his other hand’s on my waist.
His cock is against my stomach. Should I acknowledge it? Shit, I should know, but suddenly I realize how little my love life has actually prepped me for a moment like this. Out of the blue, I push in, and I rub against it, earning a satisfying groan from him. Tick! I guess?
The kiss only turns hotter and more demanding. It's as if we're both making up for lost time. Tom molds his lips to mine, andI suck on his bottom lip. That's when he grabs my ass and pulls me flush against him.
By the time we come up for air, we're both breathing hard.
"Tom, what?—"
He kisses me again.
He turns us around, my back hitting the wall beside my door. Tom's body is pressed against mine, and my knees almost give out. His thigh slides between mine, and oh God, we are really going there.
His mouth moves to my neck, just below my ear, sucking on the sensitive spot. My head falls back against the wall as his hand slides under my shirt—this is not a drill!—rough palm against my ribs, moving up.
I'm not wearing a bra, so there's nothing between his hand and my breast except a bit of space and about three seconds. I should stop this. Should say something. Should do literally anything except what I'm actually doing, which is leaning into him, rubbing my pussy against his thigh, and making sounds that are going to bring anyone nearby to check if someone's dying.
"Oh God, Tom."
Tom's thumb brushes my nipple, and the pulsing in my core intensifies. My underwear is soaked. I can feel it. He can probably feel it too, the way I'm pressed against his thigh.
"Tate." My name comes out rough, barely recognizable. His hand cups my breast, thumb still moving, and I can't breathe.
His other hand slides down my back, over my hip, gripping my thigh and pulling it up around his waist. The new angle makes me gasp again because now I can feel exactly how much he wants this, hard against me through layers that suddenly feel like too many layers.
I try to say Tom's name, but his mouth finds mine again. Deeper this time. Like he's been holding back before, and now he's done holding back. My hands move from his shirt to his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans into my mouth.
Tom pulls back slightly, just enough to drag in air, and I whimper in disappointment. His eyes are almost black, pupils blown wide, and his chest rises and falls so fast. We’re still standing but pirouetting around the small space in my apartment, resembling cage fighters more than enraptured lovers. Move, counter move.
"Tell me to stop," he says.
"I'm going to kill you if you stop."
"Resorting to actual threats now, I see."
"Tom, shut up." I cling to him, reaching out almost my full arm’s length to fist his hair. My brain is doing too many things at once. Keeping me upright. Keeping me here. Keeping the rest of my thoughts from catching up to what's actually happening.
With a smirk, Tom drops to his knees, almost pulling me down on top of him.
Wait, what is…? Tom Sullivan is on his knees, hands on my hips, looking up at me with such hunger in his eyes that I'm more than willing to tear my clothes off for him.
His hands hook in my shorts, my underwear, and he pulls both down in one movement. I step out of them because what else am I going to do, and then his hands are back on my hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows there.
I'm bare for him, and his face is just inches from my pussy. I have never felt so vulnerable and turned on at the same time.