Page 85 of The Pucking Date
“Yes!” I cry, my core burning up.
“Then get on your knees, sugar, and take what’s yours.”
I scramble to my knees as fast as I can, lust coiling in my belly. I’m so eager to pull his cock out that my fingers clumsily fumble with the zipper of his pants while he gently brushes strands of my hair out of my face, looking down at me.
“You look so pretty on your knees,” he rasps as I finally manage to slide his pants down his hips. My juices are flowing down my legs.
With his hand still firmly in my hair, he guides my face toward his crotch. Pulling his boxers down, I run my tongue along the length of his shaft, reaching the head and circling my tongue around it. His breath stutters as he gasps and shifts his hips forward. I lick his cock again, teasing him, feeling him tense, and hearing him pant.
I want more, I think while I bob my head on his shaft, coating his dick with my saliva. He holds his breath, and I’m sure he’s going to come in my mouth. But instead, he lets out a roar and yanks me off the floor, depositing me on the bed. “Lie down,” he growls, and pushes me on my back. His mouth finds my breasts, and I let out a gasp, a mix of pain and pleasure. My hips are writhing against him as his teethgently tease my nipple. His hand massages the other breast, making my body light up.
As he inches downward, one tortuous lick at a time, I stare up at the ceiling, drunk on the sensation of him on me, my vision blurred. I feel his stubble on my thighs, his finger grazing my seam.
“Fuck, Jessica, you’re soaked. Look at the mess you’re making, you dirty girl,” he grinds out, pushing a finger inside of me, then another. He draws his broad tongue along the crevice, letting out a delicious moan.
“More,” I cry in a desperate gasp, trying to writhe my hips away, the sensation too much and not enough at the same time. But he holds me firmly in place.
“You’ve been drivin’ me outta my mind for a year, Red,” he snarls. “Walkin’ around like sin in heels.”
He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t tease. Heconsumes—every moan, every twitch, every beg.
“I’m so close,” I pant with my legs clenching around his ears. He hums, sending vibrations through my core. When he feels me convulsing around his tongue and my legs tremble, he twirls his tongue around my clit, tossing me over the edge.
The world fractures. My fists are in his hair, pulling him closer as my legs shake, wave after wave washing over me. Once I finally quiet down, he groans and slides up my body, kissing my stomach. I close my eyes for a minute, and when I open them again, he has stripped off his clothes and sheathed his cock in a condom.
“I need to fuck you now, sugar,” he murmurs against my mouth, while I latch my legs around his waist, pulling him in.
“Give me all you got, Carolina,” I moan, while he lines himself up with my opening. The tip of his cock pressesagainst my soaked entrance. With one rapid jerk, he drags me onto his cock, impaling me and sinking all the way in. His gaze is locked on mine as he plunges hard inside me. Once he’s in all the way, he pulls out and slams back in.
The pleasure of having him inside me is otherworldly. Picking up speed, he grunts with each thrust. My legs are draped over his arms, allowing him to hit me deeper, harder. Again and again, he pushes into me.
“I’m coming!” I scream, not caring who will hear. My eyes are shut, lost in the sensation.
“Eyes on me, Jessica,” he orders, and I obey. As our gazes meet, he growls, “I love fucking you.”
I pull him down by his neck, watching him as he pounds into me. The groans he makes with each thrust wind me higher and higher. We are locked on each other, my nails scraping his back as I splinter in his hands, feeling the telling sign of his cock pulsing inside me. When he comes, he roars so loud that I think they must have heard us at the top of the mountain.
19
MARKED
FINN
The first thing I register is the scent of her—sweet, feminine, unmistakably Jessica. It’s soaked into the sheets, clinging to the air, wrapped around my body. The second thing is the weight of her leg draped over mine, her bare thigh warm on my skin.
I don’t open my eyes yet. I don’t want to break the spell.
She’s still here.
I let that settle for a second, let my body catch up to the reality of hers curled into mine. Her breath fans soft across my shoulder, her arm slung carelessly over my chest, fingers twitching in a dream. Her hips are tucked close, and all I have to do is shift slightly, and I’m flush against her, hard and aching.
Jesus.
She’s killing me. And she has no idea.
I turn my head, careful not to jostle her, and finally open my eyes. She’s on her side, the sheet riding low across her hips, hair spilling wild across the pillow. Her mouth is parted, pink and kiss-bruised. She looks peaceful. Vulnerable. Mine.
But I know her.
