Page 73 of Cold as Stone
“JesusfuckingChrist,” he says, voice hoarse. “Look at you.”
Then he’s on me—mouth at my throat, lips parting over my skin, tongue dragging slow and wet across my collarbone before trailing lower. He palms my breast, squeezing just enough to make me gasp, then sucks my nipple into his mouth with a low groan.
My head tips back as he sucks harder, teeth grazing the tender peak, tongue swirling in maddening circles. He switches sides,pinching one nipple while he lavishes the other with his mouth, and I cry out.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, heat laced through every syllable. “Make those fucking sounds. I want this burned into your memory.”
He kisses a line down my torso, stopping to flick his tongue into my belly button. My thighs shift open, desperate, slick. I can’t stop moving, my hips rocking, aching to feel him anywhere.
He kneels, hands curling under my thighs and pulling me to the edge of the bar until I’m spread wide, open, throbbing.
“Look at this pussy,” he groans, running his thumbs through my slick folds. “So wet. So perfect. You want my mouth, baby?”
“Yes—please, Lee.”
He dives in without mercy.
His tongue licks a long, slow stripe up my center, from my entrance to my clit, and I jolt like I’ve been struck by lightning. He flattens his tongue and grinds into me, moaning as he drinks me in.
Then he zeroes in on my clit.
He circles it with obscene precision, gentle flicks followed by devastating suction, alternating pressure until I’m writhing, legs locked around his shoulders. Every time I start to come down, he switches it up, sucking, teasing, tracing patterns over the throbbing bundle of nerves until I’m on the edge again.
“Fuck, Lee, I?—”
“Let go,” he growls. “I want you to come on my tongue. Right now.”
I break with a scream, orgasm ripping through me like wildfire. My thighs tremble, hips jerking, and he holds me down, his tongue relentless.
He shifts his grip, sliding one thick finger inside me, then another. He curls them perfectly, hitting that sweet, devastating spot.
“Lee, oh god—please?—”
“You gonna come again?” he pants, mouth wet and glistening with my arousal. “Gonna soak my fingers this time?”
I nod frantically, clutching his hair like a lifeline.
“Then do it. Be a good girl and come all over me.”
My second orgasm is even worse—white-hot and body-shaking, clenching around his fingers while he presses kisses to the inside of my thighs.
A phone alarm blares, cutting through my afterglow. I jerk, crunching up to stare down at him as he pulls it out, swiping to turn off the beeping.
“What’s that?”
He stands slowly, licking his fingers.
Then he undoes his belt.
And holy. Shit.
His cock springs free—thick, flushed, gorgeous. It curves just slightly toward his belly, a prominent vein running up the shaft, the head shiny with precum. I lick my lips without thinking.
“That was midnight. Congratulations, Kya. You won.”
His words register but I no longer care. His cock is far too distracting, and I am far too desperate to care. I want him in me. Now.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he says, tone guttural. “So deep you’ll feel me every time you move tomorrow.”
