Page 77 of Over & Out

He lets out a sound that’s almost one of pain. Then he cups the back of my neck and pulls me in, crushing his lips against mine.

Chapter 25

Hopper

Ifeel drunk. Or high. My whole body vibrates with her. The feel of her lips, already bruised from my kiss. The rough scrape of my jaw as I kiss her neck, tasting her, needing her so badly I feel immolated. The sensation of her thighs wrapping around me. The ache of my cock straining against my zipper, desperate for her.

“God, Chris,” I groan as I drag my hand down her hip. The dressisas soft as it looks. But where I wanted to touch it before, now I just want it out of the way. “You have no idea how many times I dreamed of that night. Of touching you. You felt so good then, but fuck, you feel even better now.” My hand glides down to where her bare leg emerges from the hem, and she gasps as I slide my hand up inside, gripping the underside of her thigh desperately. Greedily.

“Hopper,” Chris says. “I—I don’t usually take my clothes off for sex. You should know that.”

I take a breath, reminding myself to slowdown. I have control. Somewhere. “Who says we’re going to have sex?”

She whacks me on the shoulder. I grin, meeting her beautiful eyes. How did I never know it was her? I remember these eyes. They haunted my dreams. I watch as they dilate before me, becoming bedroom eyes. I lean in and kiss her neck, reveling in the softness of her skin, in the scent of her.

“With you,” I say, drawing my lips to her collarbone, “I’m not going to do anything so boring as ‘have sex.’” I draw my tongue up under her ear, pulling her lobe into my mouth for a brief moment before releasing her.“I’m going to make you come. Then I’m going to make you come again. That’s what we’re going to do.”

Chris moans against me.

“And before we land,” I say, my fingers inching up the inside of her thigh now, that stretchy soft dress yielding easily for me. “I’m going to fuck you.”

She sucks in a breath. I know I’m being blunt. But I can’t hold back anymore. The floodgate’s blown off its hinges. “I’m not going to stop until you come on my cock.” I trail kisses down her soft, sweet neck. “And you know what you’re going to do?” I ask into her throat.

“What?” she whispers, sounding desperate and needy, which makes my cock surge.

“You’re going to call me every name in the book. Because I’m planning on fucking you so hard you won’t be able to walk once we get off this plane.”

She leans back, practically gurgling as she moans, her feet crawling up on the bed, gliding down my arms. Her need is intoxicating. And her body’s a work of art.

What she doesn’t know is it’s only going to be like this the first time. And that’s only because I need so desperately to feel all of her. The next time, I’m going to go slow. The time after that, even slower. I’m going to blow off all my fucking responsibilities for the rest of my life to languish in her body.

I don’t tell her that part. It’s dependent on if she’ll let me and how good I do this time.

My hands reach the cotton between her legs. I brush my thumb over it and suck in a breath when I feel not just a dampness, but wetness. She’s soaked through.

“Are you kidding me right now, bangles?” I ask, barely able to get the words out.

“It’s embarrassing,” she whispers.

I sit back on my knees. “Who the fuck told you that?”

“It just is.” She rises up on her elbows. Then she attempts to close her legs.

I shake my head, folding them open again with my hands. “It’s going to be embarrassing when I come the minute I taste this.” I hook my fingers into her underwear, tugging the soft fabric down and off. And when I see her?

Fuck. Me.

Her pussy’s even more beautiful than I imagined. And I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying not to imagine it. “Christ, bangles. Scratch that. I’m going to come just from looking.”

I run my hand over her thigh, up and over the crest of her mound. Then I dip my thumb down into her wet opening. She tips her head back, shivering. “Hopper.”

My name is guttural in her mouth. It thrums throughme, making my cock extremely close to doing exactly what I was only half joking about.

I tug her toward me until my mouth is hovering over her heat. “Mine,” I growl, staking my claim on the pink flower before me. I breathe her in, and I think I do come, just a little bit. I bend down to drag my tongue through her heat. She cries out, her hands tangling in my hair. I stay there, reveling in her, my balls tightening with the pleasure of it. I stroke her again. And again. She tastes like honey. Like summer flowers. Like syrup, pouring over me.

I flick all around her most sensitive spot, teasing her until she’s growling my name like a feral cat. When I finally touch her clit with a quick flick of my tongue, the sound she gives me is so delicious I do it again. I keep the pauses in between agonizingly long. Too slow to make her come. I want to keep her on the edge. I want to stay here forever.

“Hopper,” she grits out in frustration. “I’m dying.”

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