Page 37 of Wanting Wentworth

Before I can think about what I’m doing or who I’m doing it to, I wrap my hands around her waist and lift, setting her on the counter I have her pressed against. When her ass hits the countertop, Kaitlyn lets out a soft gasp, her fingers digging into my shoulders, breath against my chest, shallow and uneven.

“Do it.” Making the mistake of looking down at her after I say it, I’m immediately lost in the pair of wide, blue eyes staring up at me and I know what she’s about to say. Do what? “You want to put your mouth on me. Taste what you’re touching.” When all she does is stare up at me, I press forward, wedging myself into the space between her thighs hard enough to pull another soft, startled gasp up the length of her throat. Hands pressed and wrapped around the edge of the countertop again in an effort to make them behave. “Tell me you weren’t thinking about putting your mouth on me.”

“I…” Her tongue traces along the inside of her bottom lip, brow slightly puckered like she might not understand the question. “I mean, yes, I was, but—”

“Then do it.” I cut off her protest before she talks sense into the both of us. “If you don’t, I’m gonna end up ripping this fucking countertop off its—”

Before I can finish, I watch her tongue push past her slightly parted lips, a second before I feel the soft drag of it across my pec, the tip of it grazing my nipple ring.

Jesus Christ, I’m gonna pass out…

Wrapping my hands around her waist again, I pull her even closer. Close my eyes on a deep groan and set my jaw, tipping my chin toward the ceiling. Grip my hands around her hips and hold on because my dick isn’t going apeshit anymore. It’s gone completely fucking rabid over the feel of her fingers and tongue tracing themselves over the lines and swirls of ink tattooed into my skin. Her warm, uneven breath against my chest. The throb of my stiff cock against the warm center of her when that curious tongue of hers licks its way up the side of my neck, trailing over the line of script tattooed into it, a moment before I feel the testing scrape of teeth.

Do it.

It’s on the tip of my tongue but this time, she doesn’t need direction. Doesn’t ask for permission. Kaitlyn sinks her teeth into the side of my neck, the sting and pressure of it ripping my hands away from her hips. Buries them in her hair and cranks them into fists on a deep, desperate groan that rocks my hips against hers, stroking the length of my cock against the seam of her denim covered pussy. “Fuck—” I do it again and again, stroking and pumping myself against her while she licks and nips her way up the length of my neck, hips rocking and flexing against mine, breath panting in my ear while her fingers dig and bite into the back of my neck. “I—” She wraps her legs around my hips, locking them at the ankles under my ass, using the angle to tilt her pelvis, desperately grinding herself against me. “I want…”

Hands still fisted in her hair, I turn my head, using my grip to angle her mouth under mine. “Anything…” loosening my fingers, I slip one of my hands around her throat. Squeeze just enough to feel the soft flutter of breath against my palm. “I’ll do anything you want, Sunshine...” I brush my mouth against hers, teasing her plump lower lip with the tip of my tongue. “Anything…” I stroke the pad of my thumb against the frantic pulse that pounds under the soft skin of her throat. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Kiss me…” The fingers digging into the back of my neck push themselves into my hair. Long, thick lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks. “Please—”

I drop my mouth over hers before she can finish, pushing my tongue past parted lips on a low groan, stroking and teasing it against hers, desperate to get inside her, to fuck her, any way I can.

Fuck.

The hand I have in her hair loosens its grip to streak down the length of her spine. Anchoring my forearm against the small of her back, I hold her in place, still flexing and pumping my hips against hers, every stroke matched perfectly to the lick and lave of my tongue, relentlessly fucking her mouth until she’s whimpering and moaning into mine and the need to come fists itself around the base of my spine and begins to shake, the vibrations of it spiraling its way up the length of my cock.

Naked.

I need to get her naked.

Need to pound and fuck myself into her so hard that—

“James…” Ripping her mouth away from mine, she moans my name.

No, not your name—because she doesn’t know your name. She has no idea who you really are or why you’re even here because you’ve been lying to her since the day you met her.

Shit.

Forcing myself to stop, I drop my head, resting my forehead in the crook of her neck. Breath coming is harsh, ragged bursts, I squeeze my eyes shut, wrapping my arms around her waist to keep her in place when she starts to move away from me.

“James?” She says it again. “Is there something—”

“Went.” My name—my real name—tumbles out of my mouth before I can catch it. Or maybe I didn’t even try. Maybe I just want to hear her say my name while I still have her pressed against me.

When I say it, she stiffens slightly like she doesn’t quite understand what I’m saying. “What?”

“That’s what my friends call me.” Even though it’s technically the truth, I still feel like a dirty liar. “Went.”

“So, it’s a nickname?” The corner of her mouth kicks up in a smirky little half smile while her hands start to move again, sliding out of my hair to smooth themselves across the plank of my shoulders. Skimming around their joints to move down the length of my biceps. “Like Sunshine.”

“Yeah.” I nod. Another technical truth that makes me feel even shittier. “Like Sunshine.” Forcing myself to loosen my arms from around her waist, I lift my head to look down at her. “I’m sorry.” Lifting a hand, I brush a few strands of hair away from her forehead. “You asked me to kiss you and I took it too far.” I didn’t take it too far. We both know that. We both know we should be fucking right now—would be fucking right now if I hadn’t pulled the brakes. “I—” My tongue tangles and trips over itself when she lifts a hand and takes us back to the beginning,

“You gave me what I asked for...” Her gaze drifts away from mine to watch her fingers trace along the swirls of ink that start at the inside of my elbow, tracing the tail of the Koi fish tattooed into my forearm. “Does this mean I have to model for you now?”.

Yes.

I imagine her in a dozen different positions—spread out in front of me. Spread open for me. Touching herself when I tell her to. Watching me draw her. Waiting for me to—

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