Page 48 of Filthy Love

He realized as he used hands on her hips to turn her around, to walk her backwards, that he was thinking out of his ass and contra-fucking-dicting himself left and right.

But then the lust he’d always had for her never made any fucking sense so why should he try to make it appear normal now.

Not when he saw her as a teen and wanted to climb off his bike and claim her for himself by pushing his face into her neck and inhaling her sweet, baby scent.

“Tell me to stop touching you,” he issued in a rough timber pressing her body into the deck post.

“I won’t.”

He fell to his knees. The oak deck creaking underneath him. The whoosh of sucked air came from Gia.

Was she scared?

On his knees his head came up to her midriff. Fingers crept under that teeny top. Felt her stomach ripple. Her hand came to rest on the top of his head.

“Tell me to get the fuck off you, Gia. Tell me I have no right to put my depraved hands on you like this.” The higher he pushed her shirt, the shorter her breathing became, and he was lost.

“I want you to touch me, Hawk.”

His thumb circled her navel. “Do you?” Back and forth he stroked that little dent and then he moved his two hands down to her hips, in the dip, he pressed his thumbs and she moaned.

Oh, hell. If she was turned on from his thumbs poking her hipbones, then she was going to love where he put his mouth.

His empty mind was intoxicating. He heard nothing but the shallow breaths from Gia. No voices, no self-reproach. Every corner taken up by his little bit.

“Yes. Touch me. T-touch me anywhere you want to.” She did some of her own and he got lost in the feel of her fingers on his shoulders.

Leaning forward he pressed his mouth right between her legs, over the material covering her pussy.

“Oh, god.”

He can’t help you, now, there’s only a deviant monster dying for you.Drowsy, he nuzzled his nose along her slit, pressing the soft fabric in between her lips. She was bare under those shorts. So, fucking bare he smelled her sweetness, felt how wet she was.

Ten years was a long time to hunger for the same thing.

There had been murders, torture and as much crime as a man could fit in to one lifetime, but nothing felt as bad as unrequited love. The pain of it, swirling constantly in his rib cage, was its own madness.

He supposed he lacked in a lot of ways. Under-fucking-statement of the century. But he knew there were few things more fundamentally erotic than listening to Gia pant his name through parted lips and rip the fuck out of his scalp at the same time as pressing him closer to the heaven nestled at the top of her thighs.

Hawk used the flat of his tongue to lick through the material. A leisurely exploration. Unsure why an unlucky sonuvabitch like him would be given access to paradise like this.

“Is this what you want?”

“Oh, Jesus. Please.” Tug. Tug. He was going to be bald. And he loved it.

Another intimate nuzzle with his nose, he inhaled her hard, drunk on pussy, he felt the shift of her legs widening with a personal invite and her puffy lips parted under his mouth and fuck he nearly died at her feet soaking in her wetness seeping through to greet him.

Incredibly hungry, he licked her harder. “I need the words, Gia.”

“Yes,” she cried. The devil’s hour eating up the echo. “Yes, I want this, please. Put your mouth on me, Hawk. I ache for it.”

He needed no other prompting when he slid down her shorts, letting her kick them off, he pried her golden tanned thighs apart and …fuck him.

Air punched out of his lungs. He couldn’t do anything, he was frozen looking at the most perfect pussy of his disgusting existence.

“Hawk…”

“Shhh, little bit. Give me this. I haven’t ever seen anything so pretty before.” And to prove it he used both thumbs to open her up.

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