Page 50 of Salvatore

I grin behind her palm.

Jealousy looks good on her. Hell, given the warm buzz of whiskey in my veins,anythingwould look fucking phenomenal on this woman—anger, disgust, maybe even sadness.

I want to see her in every shade. With every emotion.

I nip at her palm until she pulls her hand away. “There’ve been no conquests lately. I’m clean.” I glide her soaked pussy along my length, holding in a groan at the exquisite feel of her.

“Holy hell.” She shudders.

“There’s no way that slick cunt can’t take me.” I slide her back and forth over my shaft, the need to have her growing out of my control.

She moans, her head falling back as she licks her bottom lip then rakes her teeth over the moistened flesh. She takes charge, slowly rolling her hips, sliding against me of her own accord.

It’s torture. Pure agony.

I dig my fingers into her ass, a growl building in my chest, the pressure growing in my veins. I could fucking come like this. Simply rubbing against her. Nutting on my own goddamn gut.

If she isn’t careful, I will.

Her breathing turns ragged, those delicate fingers finding my nape and dragging me forward as she leans back. She directs my face to her chest, my mouth to those phenomenal tits.

“Kiss me,” she demands, unlatching her bra with one hand.

There’s no denying her.

She could have my dick in a vise and my balls in a shredder and I’d still willingly bury myself in her cleavage.

I claw at her bra straps, dragging them down her arms, then latch onto a pebbled nipple with force. She cries out, her thighs clenching around my hips, that pussy halting its smooth progression.

“Don’t fucking stop,” I warn.

She whimpers and glides a hand between us, grabbing my cock. I feel the touch everywhere. From my shaft to my balls, right down to my fucking toes.

I hold my breath as she raises onto her knees, then lose every ounce of oxygen in my lungs as she lowers onto me.

She takes my dick with parted lips and lust-drunk eyes.

“Fuck, you feel good.” I suck on her tit. Fist her fucking ass. If she goes any slower I’m going to come before she sinks to the hilt. “Tell me you love my dick stretching that sweet pussy.”

She shudders around me, body flushed, breaths increasing. “I’ve had better.”

“No, you fucking haven’t.” I palm her tits. Licking. Sucking.

Her nails scour the back of my neck, her slick heat taking me farther. She doesn’t stop. It’s one smooth, effortless glide as her body welcomes me the closest I’ve come to heaven.

“Your dick…” She gasps. “It’s…”

“Fucking hard.” I lick. “And thick.” I suck. “And goddamn made for you.”

She finally reaches the hilt, and I close my eyes against her chest, battling the need to pump into her.

“Tell me you love it,” I growl.

She moans, undulating against me, eager for more.

“Tell me, Ivy.”

Her breathing becomes ragged as her hips rock back and forth, her pace increasing as she takes my dick like a pro. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She leans forward, forcing meback against the headboard, her chest brushing mine, her lips on my neck as she whispers, “This feels horrible.”

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