Page 78 of Gone With the Wine

His eyes go darker and he draws in a sharp breath. “Are you aching there, sweetheart?”

“Yes. So bad. I need you.”

He straightens and moves to the fireplace, picking up the remote sitting on the mantel. A push of a button has flames flickering to life, the only light in the room. It gilds his profile and outlines his body as he turns back to me, fingers working open the buttons of his shirt.

Ohhhhh. God.

I unzip my shorts and shimmy out of them and my panties.

“Jesus.” He stops in front of me, then drops to a crouch. “Bianca.”

My stomach swoops.

He pulls off my work boots and thick socks—so sexy! God, I should be wearing silk lingerie, not cut offs and work boots. Then every thought flies out of my head as he clasps my ankles and lifts them, setting my heels on the edge of the couch. I fall back into the cushions, revealed to him, spread wide and open. I can feel the beat of my heart right there, between my legs.

He stares at me for long moments, boldly, ravenously. Intimately. My mouth sags open, panting, watching his face.

“So beautiful,” he growls. He lifts his head and grabs the hem of my T-shirt, lifting it. I help him pull it off over my head, both our hands frantic, and flick open the front clasp of my bra. It stays on, hanging at my sides, as his hands cover my breasts. “Good Christ. You are perfect.” He cups my soft flesh, molds it in his palms, squeezes it firmly.

I swell into his hands, my head falling back. “Ohhhh God.”

“Need a taste. Just a taste of these stunners. Shit, Bianca, your tits are gorgeous.”

More shivers roll through me, hard, rocking me.

Kneeling on the floor, he leans in and closes his lips around one nipple. Sensation shoots to my pussy as he tugs and licks. I’m burning up, pleasure rippling through me, the throb between my legs echoed in my wrists, my throat.

He sucks and nibbles on one breast, then the others, and then with a groan he kisses his way down my stomach. His rough hands glide over my thighs and butt as he kisses my pussy, then licks me. He lifts one of my feet and sets it on his shoulder, giving him more room, and he dives back in as if he’s starving, his tongue sliding over my wet flesh in satiny licks, his lips pulling gently at me, his teeth grazing me.

I push a hand into his thick hair, my fingertips digging into his skull as he eats at me. Flames burn over me, heat spirals through me, swirling in my bloodstream, sensation lashing every nerve ending. Oh my God, he’s good at this. So good.

I can’t even think any more, just feel.

He shoveshis fingers inside me, forcing a cry from my throat and then he lifts up over me to kiss me again while he finger fucks me, filling the air with wet, slick sounds, filling me with stunning flickers and flares and heat. “Tight,” he murmurs. “Such a tight, tiny pussy.”

He catches my lower lip in his teeth, sucks my tongue, and I can only whimper at this sextravaganza. I’m floating, coming apart, and I want this to go on forever, but I also want more.

He moves back, shoves my thighs back and up, and then buries his face again between my legs.

“Yes! Yes…” My head rolls from side to side, overcome as he licks me, parts my flesh and licks deeper, then sucks me. “Oh God. Oh God.”

Sensation twists inside me, almost painfully, that fast. I thread my fingers into his hair. I want to tell him to stop. I want all of him, inside me, but it’s too late and my orgasm submerges me, steals my words, my body convulsing against his lips and tongue.

“Please,” I whimper, not even sure what I’m asking for now.

He straightens and my fingers fumble at the opening of his jeans. Watching my face, he opens them and is out of them in a heartbeat, and he’s in front of me, naked, gorgeous, all muscles and sleek skin and oh yeah, his impressive erection. His cock is mouth wateringly beautiful, straining toward me, thick, engorged, dark with lust. I’m still panting, still blurry-eyed, but I want to study him and admire him.

“Look at me like that and you get fucked for sure,” he growls.

“Oh God.” Heat spirals straight to my pussy at his words, my belly fluttering. “That’s what I want. Fuck me.”

He makes a rough noise. He has a condom in his hand; he must have pulled it from his jeans pocket and I’m grateful in a distracted sort of way.

“W-will the condom fit on you?” I ask breathlessly.

He huffs a laugh, his mouth curving as he opens the package then rolls the latex over his length. It fits, but it’s stretched tight and thin, and the empty ache inside me intensifies. I may never breathe normally again after this.

He circles an arm around my waist and lifts me, spinning me onto my back on the couch, and I stare up at him, startled. Then he comes down with me, parting my thighs, kneeling between them. “Okay?”

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