Page 35 of Chasing Wildflowers
He pulls my lip from between my teeth, with the pad of his thumb. “My windows are tinted, and it’s late enough that nobody is going to be walking by. Now take your dress off.”
I comply, gripping the hem of my dress, pulling it over my head and tossing it aside. I’m vibrating with anticipation, more turned on than I think I ever have been.
He runs his tattooed hands up my sides, brushing the pads of his thumbs over my peaked nipples. I let out a soft moan, his touch sending waves of heat coursing through my body.
“Did you intentionally not wear a bra to torture me all night?” he asks, voice husky and sinful.
“Maybe,” I whimper, struggling to think through the haze of desire.
He pinches my nipple, pulling a gasp from my throat. The slight pain adds fuel to the fire already igniting between my legs. I feel like I’m going to combust.
He lowers his head, soothing the bite with his tongue, flicking the sensitive bud before he draws it into the wet heat of his mouth. His other hand continues its torment, circling, teasing, until I’m a quivering mess. My hips rock against him, chasing friction, chasing release.
“Fuck yes, Wildflower,” he groans, the vibration of his voice thrumming against my breast. “Ride me. Just like that.”
My needy moans mix with the music still flowing out of the speakers, though I couldn’t tell you what it is. Our hot breath fogs the glass, sealing us in our own private world. His mouth continues its assault, alternating between gentle worship and sharp tugs that make me cry out, every nerve screams with need. Every ounce of control slipping away.
He bites down, and the pleasure laced with just enough pain has me gasping out his name. I clutch at his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me from unraveling completely.
Fifteen
Jameson
Nothing has ever sounded as intoxicating as Lane moaning out my name, breathless and broken. That sound slides under my skin, addictive, and I swear I’m going to make sure mine is the only name she moans.
She looks like a goddess straddling me; hair spilling wild around her face, eyes half-lidded and glazed. Her body caught between pleasure and surrender. Sweat slicks her collarbone, catching in the dim light of the street lamps, her floral scent wrapping around me.
A guttural groan rips from my throat as I press my lips to hers again, letting the kiss build slowly before it tips into something harder, more demanding. My fist tangles in her hair, tugging her back gently, exposing the smooth column of her neck.
I nip at the spot right behind her ear, pulling a whimper from her throat, before soothing it with the flatof my tongue. She bucks against me, and my cock twitches, straining against the zipper of my jeans, heat spreading through my body.
“That’s it, Wildflower,” I rasp, voice rough. “Ride my cock. Use me to come.” My dirty words spill against her skin like gasoline, igniting her.
Her movements grow erratic, hips rolling faster but losing rhythm, her moans turning frantic. I grip her hips, fingers digging in just enough to guide her, helping her find the friction she needs.
“Fuck, Wildflower,” I grit out, watching her, trapped in her ecstasy. “You look so beautiful using my cock to get yourself off. Are you going to come for me, baby?”
She moans louder, her head falling back. My hand slides up, tangling back in her hair, forcing her eyes to meet mine. The sound that leaves her lips is part plea, part surrender.
“I asked you a question, baby,” I growl. “Are you going to come all over my lap?”
“Yes, yes. Please, I want to come,” she begs, fighting against my hold, desperately trying to chase her release.
I release my hold, moving my hand down to tease her perfect rose colored nipples, my other hand still gripping the curve of her hip. “That’s my good fucking girl.” My words ignite a fire in her, hips moving faster, as a strangled moan leaves her throat.
A praise kink, huh? Praising her everyday for the rest of our lives will be easy. I’d do anything to see this look on her face. To have her fall apart for me.
Between the sexy little sounds leaving her throat and the feel of her wet heat grinding against my cock, I’m going to come in my pants like a teenage boy.
I grit my teeth, willing myself to keep it together.
Her body tenses, her movements becoming choppy. “Come for me, Wildflower,” I command, bringing my mouth back to her nipple. My teeth close around the hard peak, tugging.
Her body locks up, then shatters, her orgasm slamming into her so hard she half-yells, half-moans my name. I guide her over my cock, helping her ride out the aftershocks, until she’s spent and sated, her body trembling.
Lane coming apart for me is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The way she doesn’t hold back, but instead owns her pleasure.
Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her close, resting my forehead against hers. “Fuck baby, that was sexy as hell. You, coming apart for me like that. You are incredible, Wildflower,” I murmur, running my palms up and down her back, leaving a trail of goosebumps across her smooth skin.
