Page 58 of The Front Runner
I’ve been dodging and deflecting foryears,only to find out I was playing the wrong goddamn game all along.
The heat of Stefan’s lips moves against my neck. Goosebumps spread across my arms, and I squeeze my thighs together.
“What do you say, Mira? Are you going to give me a taste? Would you like that?”
His mouth moves down over my sternum, a quick nip at the top of one breast before he crouches. My mouth dries at the sight of this perfect man working his way down my body. I usually have a quick quip or snarky comment at the ready, but right now, all the blood has rushed away from my brain to somewhere between my legs.
Every reason not to do this grows wings and flies right down the hallway.
“Yes,” I say, throwing caution to the wind.
His teeth find my nipple through the thin silk of my dress, biting down gently before sucking, and a moan erupts from my throat.
“Quiet, Kitten,” he murmurs, dropping to one knee. “I don’t want to be interrupted.”
My chin falls to my chest just as his second knee hits the ground. “Right here?”
He presses a firm kiss to my stomach before dragging his teeth across my hip bone. “I think I’ve waited long enough, don’t you?”
My clit aches, and I buck my hips toward him. Stefan Dalca is kneeling before me, hands on my thighs, still looking so proud and polished—but just a bit undone. He yearns for me. I see it in his eyes. He does nothing to conceal his longing. And that feeling must be contagious. Or maybe seeing this man on his knees for me twice in one night is just too much to take.
“What if someone walks down here?”
He reaches forward playfully and undoes the buckle on my ankle. “Oh, look at that. Your shoe needs fixing.Again.”
Biting down on my lip, I check down the hallway one last time. We’re fairly hidden here. And I’m already not feeling like myself tonight. My concern for the consequences slip away as I murmur, “Yeah, fuck waiting.” And then I gather the silk of my dress in my hands, like I can’t get it lifted fast enough.
And it must not be quick enough for Stefan either, because he lifts what’s left and disappears beneath a curtain of red fabric. Immediately, he pulls one leg over his shoulder and wraps his strong arm around it to pin me in place against the wall. His face is so close to my pussy that I feel the dampness of his breath against the front of my panties as his teeth graze my inner thigh. He clamps down, taking a quick bite that borders on painful but mostly drives me to tip my hips toward him again.
“That’s what you get for making me wait so long.”
“I’m sorry,” spills from my lips, and I don’t even care how out of character the words are for me. All I want is for him to keep going.
His spare hand trails up my thigh, and his deep chuckle vibrates across my core. “No, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I pant.
“For this.” His top hand grips the waistband of my skimpy lace thong and the other one reaches right toward the damp strip of fabric and pulls down. Hard.
The sound of my panties tearing echoes through the hallway, followed by my startled gasp.
“What the f—” The scolding dies on parted lips because Stefan doesn’t waste any time putting his mouth on me. My head tips back against the wall and the ceiling opens up in blackness and bright stars.
I’m officially having an out-of-body experience.
He starts slowly, keeping his tongue wide as he laps at me. There’s no protecting myself from him with one leg slung over his shoulder. Every nerve ending fires, and I moan loudly before clamping one hand over my mouth and dropping the other onto the back of his head. Even the silk of my dress in my palm feels sensual. A match for the feel of his tongue sliding across my pussy.
“Delicious,” he murmurs before gently nipping at one lip.
“Oh my god.” My palm muffles my voice, and my eyes flutter shut at the feel of his lips, and tongue, and teeth between my legs.
He’s a master, and I’m so far gone that my wanton hips keep swivelling, riding his face. All I can think about is how good this feels and how I don’t want it to stop.
Which is right when he pulls away and trails his thumb over my seam with an appreciative groan. He presses down on my clit with firm, even pressure and suddenly, all I want is to see his face. I pull my skirt the rest of the way up, grasping it at my hip, and watch Stefan’s green eyes staring at me greedily. His fingers press into my thigh hard enough they might leave marks, while his opposite hand plays with my pussy like it’s his to use as he sees fit.
I feel the heat from my cheeks clawing its way down my throat and across my chest.
His hair is disheveled, and his lips are glistening when he asks, “Are you always this wet for me, Mira?”
