Catalina was drowning in Ian, smothered by his kisses and losing herself in the warmth of his body as she clung to him as if her very life depended on it. It felt as if they had been building up to this for weeks now, as if they were destined to have found themselves beneath the stars on a Saturday night, and if he so much as even thought of letting her go now, she didn’t know what on earth she would do. Eagerly, obediently, her waiting mouth stayed open for him, warm and wet and willing as his tongue slipped inside of it to taste and ravish her, and by the time he was using one of his hands to caress the bare skin of her arm, Catalina was trembling against him and mewling his name all over again. “Ian…Ian…” she moaned between kisses, only to be cut off as his tongue—his hot, skilled tongue—curled around her much smaller one, stroking it sensually and causing her knees to buckle and threaten to give out beneath her then and there.
Oh, she…she was aroused now, too. The heat between her thighs was wet and aching, and her panties clung indecently to her swollen flesh, dampened with her juices and sticky with the proof of her desire. Every time Ian moaned, or breathed her name into her mouth, Catalina’s need for him grew, until she was unable to even remember an instance in her life when Ian Gray hadn’t been all that she needed and wanted and craved. She whimpered when he pushed himself away from her, eyes opening wide and flitting upwards to implore with his, as if begging him wordlessly not to stop, because it had just felt so good. Her brows furrowed together in confusion, but the brief flash of hurt that had taken over her delicate features was gone in a flash when Ian entwined one of his hands with her own and used the other to grip her hip, all the while bending down once more so that his brow rested against hers. “Then don’t stop, baby…please,” Catalina whispered softly, and she wondered if he knew just how adorable it was to hear him whine—perhaps she would tease him about that later on, when she wasn’t clinging to him as if he was all she had ever known. Tentatively, she bent her head from his, and began to kiss all along his neck, stopping at his defined Adam’s Apple to suck, lick, and worship the hollow of his throat with her eager little tongue. “Let’s go back to your dorm, Ian…please,” she pleaded with him once more, rubbing her lips against his skin. He was beautiful like ths…hair mussed, lips swollen, and cheeks flushed; he could have actually been a God. “I—I want you…”
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