Page 59 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

“I do.” His hand cups my face. “How you put others before yourself? How you care about the people in your life so fiercely? Hell, how you make my assistant or the people in my office feel?” His stare narrows. “You make them feel seen, heard, loved—even when you don’t have to. It’s a damn gift, Ariana. A man who would look that gift in the face and give it away…never deserved it, anyway.”

I blink, taken aback by the rawness in his voice, the way his words seem to wrap around me like a blanket, protecting me from my own doubts.

He’s so close now, his hand still cupping my face, his thumb brushing gently over my skin, almost like he's trying to smooth away the tension that’s been sitting there too long.

And I lose what little restraint I had left.

I kiss him.

And this time, I don’t feel like I have to apologize for needing someone to hold on to.

He makes a half-groan, half-growl in the back of his throat, then pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. His mouth is hot, demanding, stealing my breath and my sanity in equal measure. I fist my hands in his shirt, needing him closer, needing more.

His hands slide down my back, pulling me flush against him. Instantly, I can feel the heat of his body, the hard planes of his chest…and his cock making itself known. Breaking away from the kiss, Connor’s exhales are ragged, as if every breath takes an effort, as he closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against mine.

“Fuck, Ariana, I want you so bad,” he murmurs, his voice a husky rasp that brushes against my skin. "I want to kiss you. I want to touch you.” He swallow. “I want to taste you.”

The words make my pulse race, a heartbeat starting to thrum between my thighs. "Connor..."

“Will you let me?” He opens his eyes. His hand slides up my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Will you let me taste you?”

I hesitate for a moment, then nod, my breath hitching as his lips find mine again. He kisses me deeply, his hands roaming over my body, exploring every peak and valley. I moan into his mouth, my fingers threading in his hair as he lifts me onto the kitchen counter.

He breaks the kiss, those frost-kissed blue eyes of his growing hot. His jaw ticks. "Tell me what you want, Ariana."

I bite my lip, feeling a blush spread across my cheeks. "I want... I want your mouth on me."

A wicked smile spreads across his face, and he drops to his knees in front of me. Sliding my skirt up, his palms sweep up my thighs, and I gasp as he presses a soft kiss to the skin between them.

"Connor..." I moan, my head falling back against the cabinet.

"Patience, sweetheart," he murmurs, his fingers curving into the waistband of my panties. He slides them down my thighs, over my knees and down my calves, each swipe of the fabric driving my pulse higher.

I lift my hips, helping him remove the scrap of lace, and he tosses it aside, his eyes never leaving mine. And when he leans in, his breath warm against my pussy, I practically whimper in anticipation.

“God, you're so beautiful, Ariana,” he mumbles, his fingers tracing the folds of my sex. "So sexy. So wet.”

I am. I’m wetter than I’ve ever been in my life.

Wetter than any man has ever made me.

Because no man in my life has ever been Connor Reeves.

And my body definitely knows it. Because it can’t stop shaking.

Not when he parts me with his fingers, exposing the most intimate places of my body to his hungry gaze. Not when he hums low, a rumble emanating from his strong throat. And definitely not when his tongue flicks out to taste me.

The gasp I give when he makes contact is sharp—loud. My hips rock instinctively against his mouth as he begins to explore me with his tongue, his fingers sliding in and out of me in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Connor..." I moan, my fingers gripping the silky strands atop his head as he licks me long and slow. Then faster and faster. And faster still. "Oh god, Connor, please..."

He looks up at me, those storm eyes molten, and I can feel myself tightening around his fingers, my body trembling with the force of my impending orgasm.

"Let go, sweetheart," he commands, the tip of his skilled tongue flicking against my clit. "Come for me."

It is all the command my body could ever need.

I come, my body jerking into several spasms that have me holding onto Connor for dear life. And through it all, he stays with me.

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