Page 406 of One More Kiss

I can feel him smile against me before slipping his fingers inside of me, crooking them to the perfect angle as he sucks my clit into his mouth. Nibbling on the tiny bundle of nerves until all I can see, smell, feel is him––my one-night stand who’s starting to feel like a hell of a lot more than that.

“Hawthorne…”

He pumps his fingers in and out of me.

“Shiiiiiit.” I come with the force of a damn sledgehammer, shattering into a million pieces as he laps at me, giving me time to come down from the orgasm that just wrecked me. Hard.

When my legs fall limply open, he climbs up my torso and licks his lips before pressing his mouth to mine. I smile against him, my body feeling like Jell-O in the best possible way.

“It’s Boris, by the way,” he murmurs.

My brows furrow as the euphoric fog slowly dissipates from my brain. “Wait. Your name’s Boris?”

He nods.

A loud laugh bubbles out of me as I press my face into the crook of his neck.

Oh my hell, there’s no way he’s telling me the truth.

“You’re finding way too much amusement in this,” he mutters.

With a very unladylike snort, I shake my head back and forth, tears rolling down my cheeks as I try to catch my breath. Maybe it’s the fact that I just got down and dirty in the middle of a freaking park. Maybe it’s because I feel more at home with this man than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Or maybe it’s because his name is freaking Boris. Who names their baby that?

I laugh even harder.

Poor baby Boris.

“Okay, okay,” I reply between bouts of laughter. “I get it now.”

My breathing calms slightly before he rests on his elbows, caging me in on both sides with his strong arms while keeping his massive frame from crushing me further into the grass.

“You get what now?” he asks, his head cocked to the side.

“Why you’re against feminism and all that. If we get married, and you take my name? Can you imagine?” I gasp. “Boris Norris? The horror!”

Fed up, Hawthorne digs his fingers into my sides, tickling the shit out of me until I’m a squirming mess beneath him.

“No!” I laugh, pleading, begging him to stop his playful torture when I’d give anything to stay in this moment forever. “Stop!”

“Not until you take it back.”

“What? Your name?” I cry, trying to twist away from him. But it’s no use. He’s too strong. Too quick. And too damn sexy that I can’t think straight. “Too bad, so sad. Can’t help you with that one.”

“Then maybe you can help me with this.” He stops tickling me and presses his hard cock against my bare core.

Oh.

My sex clenches with anticipation before I peek up at him and give him a smile that’s so wide, so free, it almost hurts.

“That, I can do,” I quip before pushing him onto his back. My fingers make short work of his slacks, and I push them down to his knees as he lifts his hips to help me tug them back. And that’s when I see it. His very hard, very large erection. It glistens in the moonlight, precum dripping from the mushroom head as I run my thumb up and down the slit.

Why, hello there.

“You’re killing me, Sam,” he groans.

“Says the guy who just wrecked me.” I rub my hand up and down his shaft, slowly. Almost lazily. Like I have all the time in the world when I’m just as anxious as he is to take this to the next level. To feel him inside of me. To connect with him physically, the same way we’ve managed to connect emotionally in such a short period of time.

“Sam,” he warns, his gaze glued to my hand stroking him rhythmically.

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