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Crista caught her breath as Dawg licked over the saturated folds between her thighs. The protective curls that had once covered her there were gone, and the sensations were enough to make a woman insane.
There was nothing now to insulate her from the rasp of his tongue or the soft licks he bestowed upon her. His caresses only made her hotter, only made the need rising inside her bloom to desperation.
To greed.
He licked and sucked with gentle movements, never abrading the sensitive folds but soothing them, whispering over them, consuming them as her mouth sucked greedily at the head of his cock. She was determined to make him just as desperate for satisfaction as she was becoming.
She swore the breeze whipping around them was spiked with fire now. Dawg held her hips easily, controlling her frantic need for movement against his mouth. His tongue burrowed through her slit, licked and moved to curl around her clit.
He stroked, sucked, and lashed at the fiery little nubbin with hungry licks and greedy suckling lips until the inferno inside her began to blaze out of control.
Strong fingers separated her rear cheeks and caressed the narrow cleft there.
Breathing was impulse; the cries that tore from her throat as she sucked Dawg’s cock were involuntary. All she knew was the heat racing through her veins, the flames licking over her flesh, and the ache building with each lick of his tongue between her thighs.
The taste of male passion and heated flesh filled her senses. The feel of his tongue rasping, thrusting, and licking overwhelmed her.
Nothing mattered now but the pleasure. Her pleasure. His pleasure. The race to release and the need for completion. It was a like a fever in her blood, that need that consumed and overwhelmed everything else.
Her fingers stroked and pumped the stiff flesh of his cock. She sucked at the throbbing head. Her tongue lashed and stroked and tasted the heated male passion, while his tongue drove her to distraction.
Stroking and thrusting and fucking inside her as his fingers caressed and pressed against the tender opening between her rear cheeks.
She was swamped with pleasure. Taken by it. Her hips writhed above him as he held her to him, thrusting against his tongue and driving it deeper into the aching core he possessed.
Her cries and his groans filled the clearing.
His fingers pierced her ass and her pussy simultaneously. His lips surrounded her clit, drew it in and sucked it with wicked force.
Crista cupped the fingers of one hand around his balls, fondled and caressed as the other hand stroked the steel-hard shaft and her mouth sucked the head with hungry greed.
His fingers pumped inside her, fucking her with strokes that, combined with the heated suckling of his mouth around her clit, threw her into an orgasm that would have had her screaming, should have had her screaming. But Dawg’s release had him arching, pressing his cock deeper into her mouth and filling it with the creamy essence of his semen.
They collapsed long seconds later, Crista’s head pillowed on Dawg’s thigh as he turned to her, his lips pressing into the inside of her knee as they fought for breath.
“I won’t let you go,” he finally told her, his voice dangerously calm, stunning her as the words reached her ears. “No matter what you do, Crista, I’ll never let you go again. ”
EIGHTEEN
He remembered.
As he felt Crista’s orgasm shaking her body, the memories washed over him like a wave of crashing emotion. How she had found him in that damned ditch, the truck he had been driving then so damned stuck his liquored mind couldn’t figure out how to get it free.
Her voice had been soft, filled with pain, and it had soothed the ragged edges of fury tearing at his mind. He had let her lead him from the truck to Alex’s car, and as she drove them to the marina, the scent of her had wrapped around him like sunlight.
He had made her laugh.
He leaned close to her and said something about Alex letting her out to play with the big boys, and she had laughed at that.
Once they got to the marina, she had kept him from falling from the docks into the dark water below. Leading him to the Nauti Dawg, she kept up a steady, whispered conversation. Teasing, her voice urged him on and made his dick so damned hard he had been amazed. He’d thought he’d drunk enough whiskey that night to keep from getting a hard-on for days.
But he had been hard for Crista.
And once he got her into the houseboat, getting her into his bed hadn’t been that hard. She had wanted to make certain he was safe. That he was comfortable.
He had fallen back on the couch, and she eased his boots and shirt off. As he struggled with his pants, she helped there, too, even as she blushed to her virgin roots. And as she began to move away from him, he had cupped his hand around her head and had drawn her lips to his.
From that moment she had been his. His in a way that no other woman had been. She had taken to his touch as though she had been created for him alone. And perhaps, in a way, she had been.
