Page 8 of False Start
I groaned, tilting my hips in search of friction. My skin hummed everywhere his lips landed as he trailed them down my throat and along the neckline of my dress.
“Can I take this off?” he asked, running a finger under the strap.
“Yesss.” I arched my back, giving him access to the zipper, and felt a whole body shiver as his fingers brushed along my overheated skin.
He took his time sliding the fabric down my body as I shifted to help him along. I ached for him in a way I didn’t remember wanting anyone before.
“Please,” I whispered when he paused at my knees. His brow furrowed slightly, his eyes catching on to something. A row of four red crescents ran along each thigh where I had dug my nails in earlier.
“You hurt yourself.”
He brushed a gentle finger across the marks on my left thigh.
“You’re focusing on the wrong part of my body, Weston.”
I didn’t want to talk about anxiety or stressors right now. I didn’t want to talk at all. Just feel.
Luckily, I knew a great way to get himback on track. Sliding a hand between my shoulder blades, I released the hooks on my bra and dropped it on the floor. I stretched my arms overhead and gave him my best seductive smile.
“I thought you wanted to taste me.”
The growl he released was feral as he ran his hands up over my ribs and dropped his head to my chest, sucking and biting at my breasts until the skin flushed pink under his ministrations. His hips moved against me as he worked, and I shamelessly welcomed the friction, meeting every thrust as we worked ourselves into a frenzy of lust.
“You taste like vanilla.” His words were hot against my skin as he dragged his mouth down my ribs, making me squirm when he hit a ticklish patch.
“Like orchids and powdered sugar. Fuck, you’re addictive, princess.”
He reached the top of my panties and raised a questioning glance toward me.
Would I let him continue?
“Don’t you dare stop.” My face felt hot enough to burn. Arousal flushed my skin with a rosy glow that made every inch feel like an erogenous zone. I was ready to combust, if only he’d light the match.
He lifted a brow at my tone, a smile curving the side of his mouth as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my underwear and drew them down at a torturously slow pace.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
His golden hair spilled across the top of my thighs as he settled between my legs, and I wondered idly when he had lost his hair tie. I’d never noticed men’s hair one way or another, but as he bent his head and blew gently on my swollen pussy, all I could think of was gripping those gorgeous blonde locks and guiding his mouth to where I needed him.
“Look how pretty this pussy is. So pink and wet and… so ready for me. Do you want my tongue, Georgie girl?”
The whimper that slid from my mouth was unlike any sound I’d ever made. Pure animalistic need.
“Good girl.”
He didn’t ask for further permission. Didn’t press gentle kisses or tease around the edges.
He dove in and consumed me like he hadn’t eaten in years. His five o’clock shadow scraped against my intimate flesh as he buried his tongue as deep as he could, sending me into a sensoryoverload. I gripped his hair in both hands, riding the wave of pleasure his mouth built with every flick of his tongue.
“Please,” I said, unsure whether I was begging for a reprieve or for him to give me everything. He hummed, the vibration lighting me up as he slid two fingers inside me.
My orgasm barreled through me, overwhelming in the best possible way as he added a third finger, stretching out the pleasure.
“Holy shit,” I breathed as he sat back on his heels grinning like the cat that ate the canary.
It was me. I was the canary.
His erection strained at the front of his pants, and I licked my lips at the sight, imagining taking the opportunity to return the favor.
