Page 8 of Let it Ignite
She tilts her head back, her eyes locked on mine. “Yes,” she breathes. “I want that.”
“I’m going to make this good for you,” I murmur. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”
I step back, my eyes dragging down her body, and I let out a rough, breathless growl. “Take off the shirt.”
She hesitates, but then she reaches for the hem, her fingers trembling, and pulls it over her head, letting it drop to the floor.
And she’s perfect.
High, round tits tipped with tight, pink nipples, the soft, delicate skin flushed, her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. Her waist is small, her hips flaring out, her thighs pressed together, and between them, the slick, swollen lips of her pussy, glistening, begging for my touch.
“Christ,” I rasp, my jaw tight, my hands flexing at my sides. “Look at you. You didn’t put on underwear.”
“I just ran when I heard the scratching. So, you can thank Rusty for that.”
“Come here, baby girl.”
She edges closer and I cup her perfect, round tits, my rough hands flexing around the soft, warm flesh, my thumbs brushing over the tight, rosy peaks. She lets out a tiny, breathless moan, her head tipping back, her chest arching up into my touch.
I squeeze, my thumbs rolling over her sensitive nipples, my mouth dropping to her neck, my teeth grazing her jaw, and I feel it—the way her body shudders, the way her breath catches from my touch.
“It’s throbbing,” she whispers, her voice small, a little shaky. “And wet. Can you fix it for me?”
I pause, my hands tightening on her tits, my mouth hovering over her ear, my breath hot against her skin. “Where, baby?” I rasp, my voice rough, my jaw tight, my hands flexing around the soft, trembling weight of her perfect, bare tits. “Where is it throbbing?”
She shivers, her fingers curling into my shoulders, her head tipping back, her breath coming faster, and she whispers, her voice small, shaky, a little breathless, “Between my legs. It’s throbbing there. It’s wet. Please, Byron. Fix it.”
Fuck, I’m a goner. This woman is going to kill me.
I drop to my knees, pressing her back against the hallway wall. My rough hands grip her hips as my mouth drags down her stomach. I push her legs open, my tongue sliding through her slick folds, her taste flooding my mouth.
I latch onto her tight, throbbing clit. My tongue flicks. My lips suck. My teeth graze the sensitive bud, and she gasps, her fingers digging into my hair. Her hips grind against my mouth instinctively, her thighs trembling around my head.
I drag my mouth up, her juices dripping from my lips. I press my face deeper, my tongue swirling over her clit, my hands tightening on her hips, holding her against the wall.
“Am I fixing it, baby?” I growl, my breath hot against her slick heat.
“Yes,” she cries, her head tipping back, her nails scraping my scalp. “Yes, Byron. Don’t stop. Fix it more. Please.”
I shove my tongue deeper, my lips wrapping around her swollen clit. I suck hard, my rough hands flexing on her hips, holding her against the wall. Her taste coats my tongue, my chin, my jaw working, my mouth devouring.
She cries out, her head tipping back, her fingers tightening in my hair, her hips grinding against my face.
“More,” she moans, her nails digging into my scalp. “Please, Byron. More.”
I grip her ass, my rough hands squeezing, my tongue pushing deeper, my jaw working harder, my teeth scraping, my mouth moving faster, rougher, hungrier.
And then she shatters, her entire body shaking. Her hips buck up into my mouth, her pussy pulsing against my tongue, her legs trembling, her breath coming in short, broken gasps.
Before she can catch her breath, I rise to my feet, grab her by the hips, and slap her ass. The sound echoes off the hallway walls. She gasps, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed, and I toss her over my shoulder. Her bare ass presses against my arms, her wet heat soaking into my skin.
“Bed,” I growl, my voice rough. “Now.”
I toss her onto the mattress, her body bouncing, a squeal escaping her lips as I kick my pants off, my cock springing free, thick and swollen, the head already leaking for her. Her wide eyes lock on my length, her tongue flicking over her lips, her thighs pressing together like she’s trying to keep herself from begging for it.
I climb onto the bed, my knees sinking into the mattress, my hands gripping her thighs and dragging her down until herslick, dripping heat is flush against the throbbing head of my cock. I slide it through her folds, my shaft gleaming with her wetness, the tight, swollen nub of her clit brushing against the sensitive ridge, and I let out a low, gravelly growl.
“I’m clean,” I rasp, my voice rough, my cock flexing against her entrance. “Fire department makes us test regularly. No risks, baby. Nothing between us.”
