Page 111 of Black Sheep

One thigh slides between mine, propping me up. My dress hitches higher, and I go for a ride of my own, my aching, ravenous core demanding satiation, no matter how inadequate. Because nothing gets me off better than the power that sprouts from between his legs. Nevertheless, I pump then shake when my engorged clit drags against the woolen roughness of his pants.

He groans against my mouth. “Jesus, that greedy little pussy has a fucking mind of its own, doesn’t it? Are you attempting to come without me, baby?”

A pathetic little whimper leaves my throat. “I need you. So much.” The gravity of that statement stamps on my heart. The power of it freezes me in place.

Axel lifts his head and stares down at me. “Cleo…What’s happening here?”

My eyes slam shut, squeeze tight. A childish move that shames me but my reality is spinning out of control. “I don’t know.”

His hand leaves my breast. “Open your eyes.”

I shake my head.

“It’s okay. Open them. Now.”

I slowly pry them open.

“I can give you this. As often as you want it, day or night. You can have it while you work through what’s going on up there,” he taps my temple. “Deal?”

“Deal,” I croak.

“Good.” He lowers his head, tastes my mouth again. “Now, take my shirt off.”

I fall on the manual task, desperate to stop myself from thinking about the turbulence raging in my head and heart. Unfortunately, undressing the virile man before me offers a fresh set of challenges. My fingers fumble, the heat from his skin fries my brain while making my mouth water.

“I don’t want to be here all fucking night, baby. I need you too. So get a move on, hmm?”

“Don’t…rush me. I want to take my time,” I lie.

His low mocking laugh sees through my ruse. “I’d believe that if you weren’t biting your lip and eyeing me like a hungry little bird.” And just to compound my torture, he palms both breasts again.

A crazy fire blazes through me. Catching the two halves of his shirt, I yank them apart. Cotton rips and buttons ping across the floor.

“Fuck!” Axel’s breath punches out, the tops of his hard cheeks heating with the insane pressure charging through the room. “That was one of my favorite shirts. I can’t let that go unanswered. You know that, don’t you, baby?”

He squeezes my nipples between his fingers with an expert timing that sends flames straight to my sex.

My moan is tinged with desperation as I reach for his belt. Undo his fly. “I’ll pay…whatever you want.”

A torn sound rips from his chest as I shove his pants down. He straightens long enough to step out of them. His shoes come off next. Then, with one hand on my belly to stop me from sliding down the glass wall, he tosses off his shirt.

A naked Axel Rutherford is worthy of so many accolades. None of which can definitively describe the perfection in front of me. All I can do is attempt to appreciate him with my hands. My hands. My pussy.

“God, I love this.” My fingers trail the twin thick veins that V from his abs toward his groin and the delicious crater running alongside it, loving the shudder that ripples up his frame. Reaching lower, I grasp his insanely thick penis and squeeze. “But I love this more.”

His mouth drops open in harsh panting as I pump him. Beads of sweat are already forming over his brows and across his top lip. Leaning up, I lick his mouth.

“Sweet fuck, you’re on a fucking mission, aren’t you?” he croaks.

I lean back and smile. “Maybe…”

“Well, your mission will have to wait. I have one of my own.” Strong hands tug my dress over my head. His mouth captures mine, and his fingers find my wet heat, test my readiness. He swallows my tiny scream. And just like that, between one breath and the next, the balance of power shifts.

“The heels stay on. Need the leverage.”

He spreads my thighs wider and rubs his huge crown against my engorged clit. “Watch, Cleo,” he instructs gutturally. “Watch me take you.”

Foreheads touching, we both look down at the slow play of his cock between my legs. The sight is insanely hot. “God…Axel.”

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