Page 93 of Babies for the Big Shot
“I’m going to ruin you,” he whispers.
It should sound like a threat. But instead, it sounds like a promise.
Then he manhandles me, gently, but with unmistakable dominance, gripping my hips and pulling me to the edge of the couch. Before I can blink, he hooks both my knees over his broadshoulders and tilts me back slightly, legs spread, hips braced against the cushions.
“Hold onto the back of the couch,” he orders, voice dark velvet. “Don’t let go unless you want me to stop.”
My fingers scramble behind me, clutching the cushion as a lifeline. My thighs tremble where they rest on his shoulders. He hasn’t even touched me yet and I’m already begging in my head.
And then his mouth is on me.
Hot. Ravenous. Devouring.
His mouth is all possession, fierce, unrelenting. His tongue circles my clit with brutal focus, every movement a claim. One hand locks onto my hip, holding me down, while the other slides between my thighs, forcing me open. His thumbs press into the tender edges, spreading me wide, exposing everything. He doesn’t hesitate. He takes.
I arch with a cry. “Nick, holy shit…”
He groans against me, every sound raw and hungry. His voice grinds through me, a rough edge that sets fire deep inside.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, lips brushing my soaked skin. “Let me hear you.”
His tongue moves in tight, filthy circles. His fingers spread me, tease me, slide inside me and curl. I whimper… thenshatter.
My orgasm hits with brutal force. I come hard, shaking, thighs clamped around his head. My spine arches off the couch, every muscle locked tight. My fingers claw into the cushions. The world fractures, white heat, no air, just the blinding, all-consuming break.
I cry out, helpless, trembling, as he keeps going.
Keeps licking. Sucking. Fingering.
Dragging me into a second climax before the first has even finished echoing through my bloodstream.
“N… Nick…!” It’s part sob, part moan. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.
He doesn’t stop.
“Don’t let go,” he growls. “Take it. You can take it, baby.”
And I do.
I fall apart again, louder, messier. His name rips from my throat as I come on his tongue, harder than I thought possible.
Everything shatters. My legs shake around his shoulders. My vision goes white. I can’t breathe right, can’t think. I collapse into the couch, wrecked, trembling, gasping.
He kisses my swollen center once more before pulling back. His mouth is wet, his eyes dark, his voice a rough growl.
“You’re mine now,” he says, low and possessive.
And God help me, I want to be.
I’m about to reach for him. About to kiss that smug, sex-wrecked mouth of his and maybe beg him to take me again right here on the couch. I’m still pulsing. Still shaking. Still so wet for him I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.
But then…
Click.
The unmistakable sound of a door unlocking.
We both freeze.
