Page 77 of Fire Island
“Good girl.”
I suckle her clit and sink two digits deep inside her, curling them forward. She shoots off the wall, looking down at me with desperate eyes as a mewl pulls from her chest.
Good girl, my love.
Sending my tongue around her clit, I graze it with my teeth before plucking it between them. I wait for a response. And I get one.
“Oh. Hell—fuck.” She tightens around me.
“Come on, baby, ride my fucking face,” I growl out.
Her hips roll as I pump in and out in time to her movements. I suckle down on her clit. She grinds against my mouth as the sweetest little whimpers string out of her. She milks my damn fingers, coming hard.
Arching, she leans her head back. The creamy column of her neck presents itself, and I can’t wait to take a bite.
Fuck. That was incredible.
She’s grabbing for me a moment later, and I slide between her legs, lining my throbbing cock up with her soaked entrance.
Palms cup my face, a thumb brushing my bottom lip. “Slow, sweet man. I want to see every inch of you sink into me.”
Christ.
I grab her hips, hauling her toward me, and do my best to only notch the tip in her swollen lips.
And it almost takes me out at the knees.
Twenty-One
EVIE
Heaven is Callum inside me.
He grips my hips in a rough hold and pushes his tip into my swollen entrance. The delicious stretch chokes out my last breath. Inch by exquisite inch, he slides inside me, eyes set on my face as I watch us come together. My mouth waters with the pure bliss only Cal will ever be able to give me.
“Fuck, nighean leanabh,” he growls. “I don’t know how much longer I can give you what you want.”
His control when it comes to this has always been touch and go.
It’s one of the things I love the most about this man. The way even the slightest touch elicits a response. The way he falls apart for me.
Like he was built for me.
And I him.
He pulls out, slow. Teasing. Exactly what I asked for. I tighten around him too soon.
“Move, we need to move,” I rasp.
One sweep of his arms, and we’re off the desk. Cal presses my back into the bed, letting his weight settle for a moment beforepushing up on corded arms. He thrusts in slower, the reckless, desperate streak he has for me straining to break free.
I slap a hand to his chest. “Too sweet.” I’m shaking my head. His hand tugs my leg up under the knee, and he leans back, flipping me over.
“I distinctly remember telling you once before, baby girl. I am not sweet.”
He remembersthat . . .
I can’t help but smile as he fists my hair, pressing my cheek into the mattress as a rough hand tugs my hips up to his cock.
