Page 131 of You're The One
“I need to get you ready.”
He continues to tease me with his tongue.
“I’m ready.”
“Not yet.” He keeps going, licking from my entrance to my clit and back again, lingering, retreating, lingering again. Driving me absolutely out of my mind.
I writhe beneath him, so close to the edge I can barely breathe. Instinct takes over as I reach down, fingers dipping toward where I need more?—
Dom grabs my wrist. He brings my hand to his mouth, running my fingers across his lips before sucking on them, groaning at the taste of me.
“That’s mine.” He places my hand beneath my ass. “Keep it there. The other one, too.”
Before I can think, I’m shoving both arms beneath me, palms flat against my mattress.
“Mine,” he rasps.
“This cunt.” He kisses my core.
“Your sounds.”
“Every single orgasm.”
“Mine.”
His pace turns desperate, and his mouth relentless. He sucks and licks like he’s a man starved. The pressure builds fast, curling through my core.
“Dom.” My hips lift off the bed despite my pinned hands. “I’m gonna?—”
He doesn’t stop. His eyes lock with mine, like he needs to see the exact moment I fall apart.
And I do.
I lose the battle to keep my hands in place. I clutch him closer as my back arches, breath vanishing. He makes a low sound, like he feels my pleasure as if it’s his own.
I whimper and tug gently on his hair. Only then does he pull back, lips glistening, pupils blown so wide his eyes look more black than blue.
His head dips as he slowly drags his mouth along my inner thigh.
“C’mere,” I breathe.
He crawls up my body, pausing to take me in before our lips meet. I moan at the taste of myself on his tongue. My fingers rake down his back.
“I need you. Now.”
“I’ve got you.” His voice is hoarse, raw.
He braces one hand beside my head, the other guiding himself to my entrance. He runs the head of his cock through my wetness, and when it brushes my clit, I suck in a breath.
Our eyes meet, and we share a small, charged smile. But then his expression shifts.
“Fuck,” he mutters, dropping his forehead to mine. “I don’t have a condom.”
“Oh,” is all I manage, along with the silent chorus in my head of: no, no, no, no, no.
“Wait,” I say so quickly that Dom pulls back to look at me. “I bet production left condoms around here somewhere. The suite dates are next week. Check your nightstand.”
Please, universe, just this once.
