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Crista’s lips, mouth, and tongue were destroying him. Giving more pleasure than he had ever known. How could it be so good? How could one woman, one sweet, shy little mouth rip his control to shreds?
“Ah, God. Crista. ” His voice was rasping, guttural. “I can’t hold back. Ease up. ”
She didn’t ease up. Her mouth was hungrier, her moans hotter, her fingers…hot, wicked fingers playing with his balls while the fingers of her other hand stroked his shaft. Her mouth sucked, her tongue licked, her teeth scraped with delicate greed, and an edge of fire ripped through his balls and tore the choice from him.
The first explosive spurt of semen had a strangled cry tearing from his throat. His body tightened to breaking point, his hands gripping her hair, holding her in place. Praying…“Oh hell. Tongue it. Suck it.
Fuck. Yes. ”
His head slammed back to the cushions, and light exploded in front of his eyes as pleasure became a fiery, torturous ecstasy unlike anything he had experienced in his life.
He filled her mouth. Forced her to take his release. Held her head in place and nearly writhed with the sensations burning and twisting through his body. His hips lifted from the couch, and her hungry moans rippled over his cock until finally, blessedly, the hot fingers of electricity eased from his spine, and he slumped back to his seat, fighting just to breathe.
Dawg forced himself to release his fingers from Crista’s hair, and despite the shame that raged through him, he made himself stare down at her.
Shock wound through his consciousness at the sight of her. A temptress’s smile curved her plump, swollen lips as she licked down the shaft of his cock in soothing motions, easing the sharp, heavy contractions in the still-hard flesh. Her eyes were nearly black with her own arousal, her cheeks stained with a flush of lust and shyness.
“Come here. ” He caught her arms as she moved to distance herself, ignored the flash of hesitancy in her expression, and lifted her to him before bearing her back on the cushions.
Moving over her, Dawg didn’t give her time to argue or to protest. His lips covered hers, and for once, his distaste at kissing a woman who had just consumed his seed was absent.
He needed her kiss. The sweetness of her response. Her arms twining around his shoulders and her body softening beneath his.
Her lips parted for him with a gasp, and he nipped at the swollen lower curve before sinking into another, different whirlpool of arousal.
The past few years, sex had been rare. Even the desire for it had been rare. But now, as though fighting to make up for lost time, his body went into overdrive. His cock thickened back to full strength, and the need began to whip through his system once more.
Because of Crista. Because there was something about her that made him hungry. Hell, made him ravenous for the taste of her. For her touch, her breathy little moans and the kisses that burned through his soul.
He tore his lips from hers a second later, turned to her jaw, nipped and licked, kissing his way down the graceful arch.
“Dawg. Wait,” she gasped, her voice thick with arousal.
He could hear the hunger in her tone, feel it in the heated silk of her flesh. His hand flattened on her upper stomach, slid down, his fingers gripping the metal button of her jeans.
“Wait for what?” Damn, he was nearly shaking. Every cell in his body was in a frenzy of need to mate. To fuck. If he didn’t bury inside her, he was going to go crazy.
“Dawg, please. ” Was it a protest or need?
His hand flattened on her abdomen, beneath the loose material of her jeans, and felt the muscles there flexing, spasming.
He needed her. Sweet heaven, her womb was clenching for release; her pussy would ripple and contract around him. It would hug him like a hot little fist and welcome him more eagerly than her mouth.
His lips moved to the swollen, flushed mounds of her breasts above the lace of her bra then. Her nipples were hard and pointed beneath. With his free hand, he drew the material over the flushed mound and stared in rapt attention a second before the overriding need to taste her had his head lowering.
Dawg groaned at the feel of
her nipple against his tongue, the taste. The acceptance she allowed when his lips closed over one hungrily.
She jerked as though jolted with a hard surge of electricity. Her nipple tightened further, fit perfectly against his tongue, and drew him into a heated intimacy he had never known before.
He had never known, never understood how intimate this act could be. How it could feed his arousal, feed that deep, uncharted core of emotion he kept trapped in his soul.
It wasn’t trapped any longer. It spilled from inside him, filling him with blistering pleasure and acceptance. She was accepting him. Giving to him. Letting him inside her soul as he drew the tender bud farther into his mouth.
He drew on the hard, silky flesh, lashed it with his tongue, and felt his own body tighten in pleasure as her thin, sensual wail filled his ears.
Her fingers pulled at his hair, her nails kneaded his scalp, sending tiny pinpoints of fiery pleasure to erupt through his head before it exploded straight to his dick.
