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“It’s okay. It didn’t hurt,” he said, kissing and
breathing into her ear. “I want you to touch me. Just maybe save your nails for my ass.”
She grinned. “Duly noted.”
He kissed his way down her curves again, lingering over every place that made her moan or squirm or roll her hips. Where her shoulder met her throat. Her nipples. Her hip bones. And then he pushed her thighs apart and settled his big shoulders in between like he was getting good and comfortable.
And Shayna had thought seeing him on his knees was sexy.
Nothing was freaking sexier than Billy Parrish’s ravenous expression as he lowered his face between her legs. He licked a firm drag of his tongue right over her clit. Her fingers immediately knotted in his hair.
“That’s it,” he said right against her most intimate flesh. “Let me know you like it.”
“God, I do,” she rasped.
He held her ass in his hands and tilted her hips so that her core was laid out right in front of his mouth. And then he dragged his rigid tongue through her wetness on a groan that made her even wetter.
“Billy.” It was a plea. A request. An urgent, needful demand.
“I got you.” And then he didn’t tease. Didn’t go slow. Didn’t hold back.
Billy Parrish feasted on her.
He alternated between penetrating her with his tongue and sucking on her clit until she was moaning and arching and grinding against this face. And when he latched onto her clit again and worked his tongue over it in a succession of fast, tormenting flicks, she grasped the back of his head with one hand and held him there.
“Gonna…gonna c-come,” she said as the orgasm shuddered through her so hard and so good that her thighs shook and her heart thundered and her hips couldn’t help but ride his mouth in a series of instinctual thrusts.
And though he didn’t stop licking her, his ravishment slowed and gentled. Dark eyes peered up her body as his torment drew her orgasm out.
“Stopstopstop,” she finally pleaded.
He kissed the inside of her thigh and looked at her with a little smile playing around his wet lips. Smug and gorgeous. “I could eat you all fucking night.”
“Jesus,” she whispered, overwhelmed by how much she suddenly felt in that moment. Not just intense sexual satisfaction, which she did, in spades. But also desired. And, even more, cherished.
She had no idea what to do with those feelings, or whether she was letting her emotions run too far from what this night with Billy might actually mean—after all, he’d said he wanted her. As in, desired her sexually. Not that he wanted a relationship with her.
So she made light of the moment. “I’d never survive it. But what a way to go…”
On a chuckle, Billy climbed onto the bed and sprawled out all along her side. He propped his head up on his hand and peered down at her, his expression one of hot masculine satisfaction. “I’m trained in CPR. I’d resuscitate you.”
Shayna grinned. “Good to know.”
He leaned his face against hers. “You’re stronger than you look, though. I think you’d survive it.” He kissed her then, and the sweet, sweet words played with more of what was happening in her chest.
Something bigger and more intense than her decade-old crush, that was for sure.
She turned onto her side, aligning their bodies in a way that allowed her to feel that he was still rock hard. Palming him through his jeans, she met his still-heated gaze. “Well, it’s my turn anyway.”
Something flashed behind his eyes. Something hesitant and unsure. For a moment, she was almost certain of it, and then it was gone again and there was just the sexy, naked desire he’d worn since they’d walked into the house.
So she wrote off what she thought she’d seen and pulled at the button to his fly.
Billy’s hand grasped and stilled her wrist. “Don’t.”
“I mean, there’s no rush,” Billy said, a war raging inside himself. A war between what he wanted and what was right. Desire still stirred through his blood but making her come so damn beautifully was its own kind of satisfaction, and his arousal was at a low roar now compared to the frenzy of before.
Making her come could be enough. He could stop it here. Before he’d taken anything for himself. Or, at least, anything more.
