She’s cut off when I yank again. When her hips are within reaching distance, I flip her onto her stomach. The way she immediately arches for me sends a thrill of satisfaction up my spine. Her round ass is on full display, her barely-there thong is enough to drive me crazy.
“This,” I say, slipping my index finger between the hot pink fabric and her bare skin, “is ridiculous.” I slowly, so very slowly trail my finger down, stopping just before her entrance. I hookmy finger, and tug, pulling the thing away from her skin and letting it land back in place with a light smack. Whitney growls, shoving her face into the pillow in irritation. I huff a laugh, choosing to put us both out of our misery. When I peel back the panties fully, and slip them off one leg and then the other—all resolve crumbles just as quickly as my knees do.
Perfect pink lips spill out from between her thick thighs, and she’s practically dripping when I’ve barely touched her. I tell her as much. “You’re dripping onto the sheets, Whitney. That all for me?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she stutters, unable to concentrate with my hot breath fanning across her bare pussy. She wiggles her hips in impatience, so I do us both a favor and lick a tantalizingly slow strip from her entrance to her clit. She tastes just as good as she smells. Like vanilla and cherries and something else so fucking addicting it’s guaranteed to be engraved in my memory until the day I die. Whitney’s like a drug, and I have no desire to stop until we’re both shaking from the high.
The desperate whine that rips from her throat is all it takes for me to grab her hips and flip her back around. Ineedto see her face.Needto know exactly what she likes and where she likes it. My mouth is back on her in a second. She gasps, and I groan in approval when her fingers thread through my hair and tug, pulling me closer to her cunt. Like she’s sayingmore, more, more.
And I give it to her. I bite. Nip. Lick. Suck. Over and over again until she’s begging for it,cryingfor it. Only when she’s practically riding my face and chasing her own release do I add a finger. And then another. The way she grips me is intoxicating, and it doesn’t take long for her to cry out, “I need you inside of me.Now.”
That’s the only reason I stop devouring her—the desperate way she says it is impossible to ignore. When I pull away from between her thighs and stand to my full height, she’s already meeting me at the end of the bed. On her knees andsofucking eager. She tugs at the waistband of my boxers, glancing up at me briefly as if asking permission. I almost laugh, because if she didn’t take them off soon, I’d finish before I even got out of them. “You want it? Take it out, then.”
She swallows, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth as she finally tugs the black fabric away. The fact that she immediately listened shouldn’t be so hot, but it is. “Holy shit,” Whitney curses, looking up at me from lowered eyelashes as I spring free, “Are you even real?”
My brow rises in amusement. I’m not humble enough to play down my size. I’m larger than the average. And it isn’t cocky, it’s just true. Comes with the height territory and all that. But Whitney’s reaction is so much better than I could have imagined. She doesn’t touch me, though. Instead she trails her manicured nails up my stomach, up my chest, and around the back of my neck. My head involuntarily dips to meet her lips. She tugs, and we both crawl back into the bed.
I curse when she grabs my cock, lining me up with her pussy. “Condom?”
“I’m on the pill,” Whitney blurts back.
I nod. “And I’m as clean as a whistle.”
“Whistles aren’t really that clea-”
She doesn’t get to finish her smartass remark. Instead, she cries out as I thrust into her in one, long fell swoop. I nearly topple forward but catch myself beside her head. The sheer fucking tightness of her sucks the air from my lungs. She’s wrapped around my dick like she was made forme.
I pull back out slowly, giving her time to adjust. It takes a few strokes before she’s less focused on the stretch and more focusedon the pleasure. We both glance down to watch as she stretches around me. The way we look when I pull back slowly, and slam back into her. She’s so wet that I slip in and out with ease, and the sight of my cock glistening with her wetness makes both of us moan in unison.
My hand falls to her stomach and my fingers splay. “Feel that baby?” I ask, running a thumb right underneath her belly button, where my cock drives into her. “I’m going to fill you so much that you’ll be dripping for days.”
I tear my eyes away from her stomach and where our bodies meet to meet her gaze. She’s already watching me, mouth parted and cheeks red. “Kiss me,” she says, so quietly I almost don’t hear her. But I did, and I do. Our lips stay locked, battling for dominance and an equal amount of need while we rush towards our climax.
When she has to pull away and tuck her head between my collar and jaw—and only when she clenches down on me while she cries out—do I join her. A lick of heat shoots through my spine, and I keep my promise of filling her. White, hot, and dripping out and around us. When I finally pull out of her, and find a rag to clean our mess up, we opt for cuddling. To say I was shocked when she wrapped her arms around my middle and laid her head on my chest would be an understatement. She sighs against me, “That was…”
“Insanely good?” I huff a laugh, asking as I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.
Whitney hums, the sound vibrating against my chest as she snuggles in closer. “That’s putting it lightly.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, and after a while I start to wonder if she’s fallen asleep. I glance at the clock she has sitting beside her bed, seeing it’s 2 a.m. Before I can open my mouth and check, she’s whispering against my neck, “Wanna go again?”
Whitney squeals when I flip her onto her back for another round.
Epilogue
WHITNEY
“If you don’t hurry up, we’re going to miss our reservation.”
It’s been exactly one year since Wyatt and I got married. To celebrate, Wyatt is taking me to some insane French restaurant out of town. I’m excited, to say the least, we haven’t had much free time lately and I’m looking forward to an adults-only night.
Although, heinsistedthat we had to stop at Buddies’ and pick up something for his brother. I usually wouldn’t mind—but we still need to drop Brinley off. Getting off of the waitlist at Lakeside’s Bistro typically took months. I have no idea how Wyatt got us a table.
It’s a high possibility that I will murder Wyatt, and Wesley, if we’re late.
His white collared shirt is unbuttoned at the top. The dark bootcut jeans are snug in all the right places—showing off his powerful build. The brown blazer he wears is new, but the cowboy hat and boots are about as old as Mr. Sanders.
God, help me. My husband is so hot I want to lock him inside and never let him leave the house again.
