Page 59 of The Girlfriend's Guide to Dating a Biker
Before I could even form a thought, he shifted lower, his mouth closing over one nipple, and my breath left me in a shattered gasp. His tongue flicked, slow and relentless, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my core, making me writhe beneath him.
His hands roamed down my body, over my hips, lower still until his fingers pressed between my thighs. I moaned, my back arching again as his thumb brushed over my clit through the thin, damp fabric of my underwear.
He settled between my legs, rubbing circles over my clit, his eyes locking on mine like he could read every filthy thought I was having. “Tell me, darlin’,” he said, his voice thick with lust, “you want my fingers inside you first . . . or do you want my mouth?”
I gripped the sheets as I tried to decide. Fingers or mouth? I wanted both. All of it. Now. I wanted to tell him to just do something, anything, with his fingers or his mouth, but no sound came out.
Jake’s grin turned sexy and devious. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. “Can’t choose?” His thumb pressed harder, circling my clit through the fabric until my hips jerked against his hand. “Guess I’ll just have to take my time figuring out what makes you beg prettiest.”
He hooked his fingers under the lace of my panties and pulled them to the side, his gaze dropping to where I was already slick and swollen for him. “Look at you,” he rasped, his voice gone, gravel-deep. “Dripping for me. You got any idea what that does to a man?”
His fingers traced my entrance, teasing me like he might push one inside, and then pulling back. Just enough to make me whimper. “Say it, darlin’. Tell me what you want first.”
“Your mouth,” I panted.
Jake stilled for a single, loaded second, and I was pretty sure his brain was all porn and fire like he’d told me it was after the first time he kissed me.
Then, he had my underwear off me and was kissing the inside of my thigh. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was like that part of me had been driving him half-insane and he was finally getting the taste he needed.
He kissed his way up my thigh, and I felt his touch everywhere. Like electricity entirely rewiring my desire. He didn’t rush. Of course he didn’t. He was controlled. Methodical. Torturous.
His breath was hot against my skin, and oh my god, I was going wild with how slow he was being. I reached for his hair. Shoved my fingers through it. Pulled it. All while forcing myself not to beg him to just hurry up already.
He lifted his face and met my gaze, and the look of pure sin in his eyes almost undid me. No man had ever looked at me like that.
“Put those thighs over my shoulder, darlin’.”
My thighs moved on instinct because clearly, my body was vibrating at a frequency only he could hear, and the translation was take me, fuck me, don’t stop until I break.
His eyes remained on mine. “Hope you aren’t planning on being quiet. I want you loud and messy.”
One of his hands curled around my thigh and suddenly I was obsessed. That hand. Those veins. The ink. The way he gripped me like I was his.
“I want the whole fuckin’ building to know who’s making you come,” he said, and then, with one last look at me, he dropped his mouth to my pussy.
He kissed my lips and then alternated between kissing, licking, and sucking them. His beard scratched against the inside of my thigh, and I decided I now believed in reincarnation, because this had to be a reward for something.
And holy fuck, the first glide of his tongue through my pussy tore a moan straight out of my soul like lust was the only language I knew.
I grabbed the sheets and tried to remember how breathing worked.
Jake was relentless. Hot and wet and hungry. The sounds he made when I rolled my hips were pure fucking worship. I felt them more than I heard them.
“Fucking perfect,” he rasped into me, like he was talking to himself, not me. “So soft. So goddamn wet.”
Both his hands were now around my thighs, his fingers digging into my skin like he didn’t want to let me get away. Like I could ever want to.
Then he flattened his tongue and dragged it from bottom to top, filthy as hell, finishing with a flick over my clit that had me crying out.
He did it again. And again.
And then he started sucking.
My hips bucked and he groaned like that’s what he’d been waiting for. His hands pinned me down and his tongue circled my clit with obscene skill, flicking, sucking, stroking, like he knew exactly how to break me.
I moaned. Loud. Desperate. Unfiltered.
“That’s it,” he said. “Let me hear you.”
