Chapter 232 Tell Me You Want This

Chapter 232 Tell Me You Want This
Gina's POV

My heart's pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat, a wild, reckless rhythm that matches the heat pooling low in my belly.

Tyler's kiss is a storm, all hunger and fire, his lips claiming mine with a ferocity that makes my knees weak. I'm lost in it, in him.

His chest is warm, taut under my palms, a faint dusting of hair tickling my fingertips. I want more—more of his skin, his heat, his everything.

I pull back just enough to yank my top over my head, tossing it aside with a defiance that feels like a dare. My bra's a simple black lace number, nothing fancy, but the way Tyler's eyes darken when he sees it makes me feel like a goddamn queen.

My skin prickles under his gaze, every nerve singing. I arch my back, letting the motion speak louder than words: I'm not backing down.

He freezes, just for a heartbeat, his breath catching. "Gina, are you sure this isn't too fast?"

His voice is rough, like gravel, but there's a flicker of concern in his eyes, a tenderness that makes my chest ache.

I step closer, pressing my body against his, my lips brushing the pulse point at his neck. His skin's hot, salty under my tongue, and I feel him shudder.

"Are you a man or not?" I murmur, my voice low, teasing, but laced with a challenge. "Stop hesitating and take me already."

A flush creeps up his neck, staining his cheeks, and his breathing hitches. He lets out a dark, throaty chuckle, like he's surrendering to something bigger than both of us.

"Fine," he says, his voice dropping an octave, all velvet and promise. "I'll give you what you want."

His hand moved to his pajama pants, slowly pulling them down, that calm elegance making my mouth go dry. The pants slid to the floor, leaving only black boxer briefs containing the bulge of his arousal.

My eyes lock on his, and the air between us crackles, heavy with want. He steps closer, his fingers grazing my hips, and I feel the heat of him even through the thin barrier of my jeans.

I reach for my own zipper, but his hands beat me to it, deft and sure. He peels my jeans down my legs, his knuckles brushing my thighs, sending sparks skittering across my skin. I step out of them, kicking the denim aside, and now it's just us—me in my bra and panties, him in his briefs, the room humming with the promise of what's next.

Tyler's hands find my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I gasp at the feel of his erection pressing into my stomach. It's real now, undeniable, and the thought sends a rush of heat between my thighs.

I tilt my head back, and he kisses me again, slower this time, like he's savoring every second. His tongue teases mine, a dance of heat and need, and I'm drowning in it, my hands roaming his back.

"God, you are stunning," he whispers against my lips, his voice rough with desire. "I've wanted this for so long actually."

"Then don't stop," I breathe, pressing myself closer. "Please, Tyler, I need you."

His eyes darken as he looks down at me. "Are you sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure of anything," I tell him, reaching up to trace his jawline with my fingertips.
He guides me backward until my calves hit the edge of the bed, and I sink onto the mattress, pulling him down with me. The sheets are cool against my heated skin, a stark contrast to the fire of his body as he settles over me. His weight is grounding, perfect, and I arch up to meet him, craving more contact.

His lips trail down my jaw, my throat, lingering at the hollow of my collarbone before dipping lower. He tugs the lace of my bra aside with his teeth—Jesus, his teeth—and his mouth closes over my nipple, warm and wet, drawing a moan from deep in my chest.

"Tyler," I breathe, my fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on.

He groans against my skin, the vibration sending a jolt straight to my core. My hips buck instinctively, and I feel the damp heat of my arousal soaking through my panties.

I'm aching for him, my body screaming for release, but he's taking his time, torturing me in the best way.
His hand slides down my stomach, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my panties.

I tense, anticipation coiling tight, and when his fingers brush against my clit, I nearly come undone right there. He circles slowly, teasing, his touch featherlight but precise, like he's already memorized what makes me tick.

"Gina, you're so wet," he murmurs, his voice thick with awe, and I can't help the whimper that escapes me.
"Tyler, give me," I beg, my voice raw, desperate. I'm not above pleading, not when every nerve in my body is screaming for him.

He doesn't make me wait. He hooks his fingers into my panties, pulling them down my legs and tossing them aside. I'm bare now, exposed, and the way he looks at me—like I'm everything—makes my heart stutter.

He slowly slid off his boxers, and I finally saw him: hard and hot, the tip glistening with precum under the dim light. I could tell his dick was at least 18cm, the sight hitting me so hard I held my breath, heart racing, cheeks burning.

I didn't hesitate, sliding out of the bed and wrapping my hand around his cock, feeling its warmth and pulse before taking it into my mouth.

Tyler's face flushed red instantly, his voice low and husky as he asked, "Baby, you okay with this?"
I smirked, locking eyes with him, and said confidently, "Hell yeah, I want to savor every inch of you." My tongue traced along his shaft, teasing its contours, feeling him tense up with every move.

A few minutes in, Tyler's breathing got heavy, and he rasped, "Alright, I want you to feel good now. Let me take care of you."

With gentle but firm hands, he guided me onto the bed, my body sinking into the soft sheets. His head dipped between my thighs, his warm breath grazing my skin, sending shivers through me.

His tongue started exploring, teasing with skillful flicks, and a jolt of electricity shot through me, overwhelming and intoxicating. I looked down at him, his dark hair swaying slightly with each movement, and I couldn't help but run my fingers through it, gripping softly.

Then, his tongue thrust deeper, moving with precise, intense rhythm, and I let out a sharp cry, pleasure crashing over me like a wave, my body trembling uncontrollably.

He pulled back, his eyes burning with a hint of triumph, and climbed over me again. His weight pressed down, warm and all-consuming, pinning me to the bed as if time itself had paused in that moment.

He nudges my thighs apart, settling between them, and I feel the blunt head of his cock press against my entrance.

"Tell me you want this," he says, his voice low, almost a growl, but there's that tenderness again, like he's giving me one last out.

"I want you," I whisper, my hands gripping his shoulders. "Now."

He pushes into me, slow at first, stretching me in a way that's both exquisite and overwhelming.

I gasp, my head tipping back as he fills me, inch by inch, until he's buried deep. The fullness is perfect, a sweet burn that makes my toes curl. He pauses, letting me adjust, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling in the charged air.

Then he moves, a slow, deliberate thrust that drags a moan from my lips. He finds a rhythm, steady but unrelenting, each roll of his hips driving him deeper, hitting that spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him faster. The room fills with the sounds of us—my soft gasps, his low groans, the slick, rhythmic slap of skin on skin.

"Gina," he rasps, his hands gripping my hips, angling me just right.

The pressure builds, a tight, delicious coil in my core, and I'm teetering on the edge, so close I can taste it. His thumb finds my clit again, circling in time with his thrusts, and I'm gone. My orgasm crashes over me, a wave of pleasure so intense I cry out, my body clenching around him, pulling him deeper.

He follows me over, his thrusts growing erratic, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he spills inside me. His body shudders, and he collapses against me, our skin slick with sweat, our breaths ragged.
For a moment, we just lie there, tangled together, the world reduced to the pounding of our hearts and the warmth of his body against mine.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes soft, searching. "You okay?" he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I smile, lazy and sated, my body still humming. "More than okay," I say, my voice hoarse. "That was… worth the wait."

He chuckles, low and warm, and kisses me softly, like a promise. And as we lie there, wrapped in each other, I know one thing for sure: this is only the beginning.