Page 134 of Pucking Tangled
She held his gaze. “I don’t want you to.”
“Thank fuck.” He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her deeply. His hands slid under her shirt and played with her nipples. He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips brushing hers. “You have to be quiet.”
Mia nodded back at him.
“I mean it baby.” He kissed her again. “If I hear a single noise, I’m stopping.”
She raised a brow and smirked. “Sounds like a challenge.”
Waylon growled, soft and sharp, and kissed her again—this time harder, with purpose. His weight settled more fully against her, and she felt the evidence of his need pressed thick and insistent between her legs. She arched up,rolling her hips just enough to draw a groan from his throat that he quickly swallowed against her neck.
“Mia,” he said again, this time not a warning but a plea.
She reached between them and slipped her hand under the waistband of his boxers making him shudder with just a touch.
His mouth found the hollow beneath her ear, and she bit her lip to keep from making a sound as he kissed down her throat—slow and open-mouthed, like he had all night. Like he was learning her inch by inch.
Mia arched again, unable to stop the soft sound that escaped her throat when kissed the inside of her thigh.
He froze. “Mia?—”
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I can be quiet.”
Waylon slipped off her panties and balled them into a ball. “Open.”
“Excuse me?” Mia looked at him like he’d lost his mind.
“Open your mouth for me, Mia.”
She did as he asked and he stuffed the lace inside her mouth.
“There. That should help muffle your sexy noises,” he said before he buried his head between her thighs.
Waylon was thorough. Focused. It was almost unfair.
How was she supposed to stay silent when he was eating her like he was starved?
Mia bit down on the fabric in her mouth and fought hard not to scream as her orgasm rocked her. He saw her through it until she thought she couldn’t take anymore.
And when he worked his way back up her body again, his voice was pure gravel. “Such a good girl.”
She reached for him, pulling at his boxers, eager to set his length free.
Waylon sat back and shoved his boxers down off his hips.
When he finally pushed inside her, slow and deliberate, they both froze for one long, still second—eyes locked, breath mingling.
Then Mia nodded.
And Waylon moved.
Each thrust was measured. Careful, yet deep.
Slow and steady, making sure that she took all of him every time.
She clung on to him, her body wrapped around his as the heat built around them. Waylon picked up the pace, a sign that he was close. His hand slipped between her thighs again, fingers circling just right. And then she shattered around him once more. There was no keeping quiet with him buried so deep inside of her.
Waylon put his hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the sound of his name tumbling her lips. “You’re lucky I’m so close, Mia,” he warned with each thrust.
