Page 36 of The Love You Fight For
I give her a moment to catch her breath, and then I flip her quickly onto my couch so she’s lying on her back and I’m kneeling above her.
“All that with just my thumb.” I grin, giving my hard cock a squeeze through my joggers.
Sam huffs, but instead of giving me a snarky retort, she reaches for the band on my joggers. I grab her hand, halting her movements, and shake my head disapprovingly.
“Tsk-tsk. It’s not polite to be so impatient.”
She glowers at me, and fuck is it sexy.
“You’re not in charge here,” she snarls, her tone surprisingly authoritative considering she’s lying half-naked and horny underneath me.
I don’t argue with her. Instead, I hook my fingers into the waistband of her bottoms.
“Hips up, princess.”
She obeys immediately. I slip her silky pajama shorts off her body and discard them on the floor, but I leave her white, lacy thong on. It’s thin. I can see her bare pussy lips through the damp fabric, and I want to know how they taste through it, too.
I’m going to fuck her senseless in this white, lacy thong, and then I’m going to rip it off her and keep it as a fucking trophy.
“Jesus Christ.” I marvel at her. I reach for the bottle of bourbon and uncap it. “You’re a sight, you know that? Your body is fucking perfect.”
She smiles, but it’s sinister. It’s all teeth. The warmth, thehumanity, I’d seen in her just moments earlier is gone.
“Well, of course,” Sam says, her tone biting. “I’m arepresentative of the Harper family.Everyaspect of my appearance matters.”
I hold her scathing eye contact and debate my next move. I want to ask about that comment. I want to know more—I want to knoweverything—but her nostrils flare, and she raises an eyebrow.
“Are we fucking, or is it time for me to go?”
Without taking my eyes off hers, I lift the bottle of bourbon to my lips and pour some of it into my mouth. I set the bottle back on the table, brace one hand on the back of the couch, and lean over Sam’s naked body. I allow myself one more visual perusal of her goose-bump-covered flesh and heaving chest, then I slowly spit the bourbon onto her.
She gasps as the liquid slides down her collarbone, breasts, and ribs. I move down her body, spitting more onto her stomach, into her belly button, onto her pelvis, and finally over her lace-covered pussy. The bright white fabric turns a rusty brown when the bourbon hits it, and she sucks in her stomach and moans. Her back arches, her breasts the perfect invitation, and I accept.
I lick and suck at her flesh, lapping up the taste of bourbon from her skin. Sucking on her nipples, biting them, and dragging my tongue over her sides and stomach. Her fingers thread into my hair as I run my tongue over her skin. I bite at her hips, I nip at her, and she whimpers sweetly the whole time.
When I close my mouth over her pussy, massaging her clit through the lace with my tongue, she groans.
“Oh fuck,” she cries, tilting her pelvis so her pussy presses harder against my mouth. “Oh, fuck, yes.”
I settle myself onto my knees on the floor and grab the bottle of bourbon once more. I run my knuckle over the thong, dragging from bottom to top and pressing lightly on her clit.
“I want you to go down on me,” she pants.
I smirk.
“I don’t do that.”
Her face falls, disappointment and rage warring in her eyes. Idrag my knuckles down over her thong again, then circle her clit as I speak.
“Going down is for the upper class. It’s too formal. Too proper.” I pour a little more bourbon between her legs, and she jerks, but I clamp my hand onto her thigh. “I eat pussy, princess, and I’m going to fucking devour yours.”
I waste no time. I descend upon her, unleashing the fervor I’ve been restraining. I move her thong to the side and swipe my tongue up and down her pussy, dipping into her once before moving to her swollen clit and flicking. She bucks against me, and I chuckle.
“Greedy fucking girl,” I say against her. “You taste so fucking good.”
I slip a finger into her as I suck on her clit, and she moans. I slip in a second finger and her grip tightens in my hair as she tries to fuck my fingers. I let her. I let her thrust on me, dragging her bourbon-soaked pussy lips up and down my tongue as I pump my fingers into her.
I will never be able to drink bourbon again without thinking of this. Without tasting her pussy and hearing her sexy whimpers and moans.
