Delinquents (Dusty #2) by Mary Elizabeth Sarah Elizabeth

Author:Mary Elizabeth Sarah Elizabeth [Elizabeth, Mary Elizabeth Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mary Elizabeth Sarah Elizabeth
Published: 2014-10-22T23:00:00+00:00

His touch is heavy and slow and all I want in the world.

It started a minute ago, or a few, or some seconds. It’s hard to say. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep, but the scent of clean linen and stolen smoke surrounds us, and Thomas holds me close, brushing his thumb along the bottom of my stomach.

Exhausted under the weight of waking, I stretch for comfort.

With my back against his chest, he brings me firmly to himself. Swift between my shoulders, his heart beats as he drags his nose along my neck, breathing me in. He presses where his fingers were just brushing, and my chest tightens. My eyelids burn from crying and breathing takes effort. Everything aches, dull and awful and raw.

Sliding his hand between my legs, love doesn’t let me hesitate. He slips under my dress and covers me with his palm, and everything that aches warms under his touch. My pulse fully wakes, thrilling my veins as I open for him, knees bending and wedges I still wear sliding along hotel sheets. Burying my face into pillows that aren’t his but smell so much like him, I lift my hips and love that split my spirit rubs my softest place with quick, capable fingers.

Persistent through cotton, he’s much wider awake than I am. From the pattern of his breathing to the measure of his touch, he’s concentrating and purposeful. I reach down, chasing the fires he’s lighting with every circle, and he curves our fingers together, making me touch at his pace, and it’s so good I sing for him.

Shifting quickly, Thomas kneels between my legs. Dizzy and disoriented, I blink my eyes and make them adjust. Early sunset paints the room dark gold. It falls across my boy in long slanted lines from blinds that were closed and are now parted by something thrown or broken.

Unstill, Dusty’s a shifting blur of bronze-sunlit blond hair and a stretched out, torn up gray tee. He buries his face in my neck as he sinks against me, hips to heart, and gives me all of his weight. Unsparingly hard between my legs, he moves with intentional and unapologetic rhythm that makes my dress ride up and sparks open behind my eyes. He brings my hand to his neck, and under my touch, the heart of love beats heedlessly, making my own pick up.

My blood trembles and hums as I lift, close, so close.

“Come on,” he whispers, rough and deep, thick with insistence under my ear.

Gripping with both hands, I arch so hard up and into him that my body leaves the bed. My cries come undone and I cling to the person taking me apart.

When my shoulders and back touch blankets again, I feel lighter, lifted. Breathing comes easier with Thomas like this, surrounding and in between, above and beyond, all over me, but heavy love moves quickly in my haze.

I clench my fingers into my dress as he reaches under it, pulling cotton out of his way and sliding me open with his fingers like he’s searching.

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