Page 4 of Wicked S.O.B.

Holy Christ. I fill my hands with the magnificent weight of them. Since the first time I took her, the feel of her pussy around my cock has had the power to render me speechless and turn me into an utter mess, but Elyse’s breasts come a very close second in the addiction stakes.

I pass my thumbs over the erect, dark pink tips, my thick tongue already salivating in anticipation of a taste. I squeeze them between my fingers and am rewarded with a long, sweet moan that draws a spurt of precum from my cock.

I swing us around and brace her high against the wall until her breasts are level with my mouth. Her fingers frame my jaw, the tips tunneling into my hair. Her grip is strong enough to get my attention. My gaze flicks up to hers, my nostrils flaring at the fire in her eyes.

“Quinn—”

“Two fucking days,” I snap. The storm of my rage is far from dulled. I don’t want her to attempt to soothe it. Not with talking at least.

Her gaze drops to my mouth. She licks hers. The sight of her pink tongue dragging across her plump lower lip, leaving a wet trail, achieves the inevitable rabid response. A feral growl rips from my throat at the need reflected in her eyes.

She wants to kiss me as much as I want to devour her mouth. But our kisses don’t belong in this moment. From the first time I tasted her lips, we’ve both acknowledged our kisses are special. Sacred, even. I don’t take them for granted, and I don’t take them in anger.

It’s not easy to deny myself any part of her, albeit temporarily. But I drag my gaze from her mouth, back down to her breasts. Her grip tightens for a charged second, her eagerness for the taste of my mouth on hers a temptation she fights, too, before she’s arching her back, offering me what I crave.

I wrap my lips around one perfect nipple. One taste of her and sublime bliss shoots into my bloodstream. Saliva fills my mouth and washes over the nub that is the center of my joy.

God, how is it possible that she tastes even better than the last time I had her?

I suckle harder, lashing my tongue over her responsive flesh, and glory in the sexy little whimpers that jump from her throat.

She punctuates the exquisite sounds with jerky rolls of her hips and an ever-tightening grip around my waist. My cock is fully lodged against her cunt, every movement against the underside of my stiff dick an electric zap to my senses.

I feast on her breasts until pleasure saturates my every cell. Waves of electricity flow through me, and I’m stunned by how alive I feel. But I know this isn’t me. This is all Elyse. Her life force. Without which I’m a useless husk.

When I’m in danger of suffocating from the intensity of it—or, hell, coming in my pants just from suckling her breasts—I trail a long line of kisses up to her throat, along her jaw to her ear. I bite the lobe none too gently and absorb her shuddering.

“Fuck you,” I plead in hoarse desperation.

“Fuck me.” She gives me permission.

Chapter Two

Quinn

High Key

I’m an asshole.

Every broken piece of furniture and shattered ornament echoes this as I pry my love off the wall and head across the room, kicking a fallen lamp out of my way.

It’s underscored by the fact that I don’t attempt to remove her from the carnage. I won’t make it to the bedroom. I don’t even try. Instead, I stumble to the large sectional sofa that is thankfully free of debris and drop her onto it. I watch her tits bounce as she shimmies to the middle of it. Her heavy breathing further exposes the heavenly globes, and I’m drooling by the time I kick off my sweatpants. I’m not wearing anything underneath, so she gets an immediate eyeful of my desperation.

My busy fingers attack the fly of her jeans but pause for a moment as her hazel gaze drops to my rock-hard cock. She swallows, and the next breath leaves her in an agitated puff. I drop one knee next to her hip and wrap my hand around my dick. She stops breathing, her eyes glued to the taunting, insanely dangerous play of my hand. I need her so much that I’m at risk of ejaculating all over her gorgeous tits if I’m not careful.

I grit my teeth and pray for control. I can’t give in. Not just yet. I need to make some specific point that escapes me right now.

“You want this, sweetheart?” I ask, barely able to recognize my gravel-rough voice.

Her moan is a reedy, desperate plea. “Yes.”

“Two days, Elyse.” Yeah, that’s it. She left. And I died. I sound like a fucking broken record. A selfish asshole singing a looping tune.

Her gaze surges upward from my cock to hold mine for a second. A spark lights the beautiful depths. Then she sinks her fingers into her waistband and yanks hard at the jeans. Her satin and lace panties come off with them. A second later, she’s gloriously naked.

The breathtaking sight of her is a solid punch to my gut. Impossibly, she’s even more beautiful than she was the first time I saw her naked a year ago. My pulse jumps all over the place, and a steady roar begins in my ears. It’s a roar I know won’t abate until I come deep inside her. Only then will I know even a hint of peace.

“You think you’re the only one who suffered?” Her question commands my attention.

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