Page 76 of A Taste of Vanilla

My hips jerk, and he holds me steady, his eyes finding mine as his mouth sucks on my sensitive nub.

His hand comes down, rubbing circles over my clit as hewatches me. “There,” he murmurs, his voice rough against me. “That’s it.”

I make a sound I would deny in court.

He does it again.

Slower and meaner.

My head falls back into the mattress, my back arching.

“Oh my God.”

“Not quite.”

My eyes fly open, and his gaze lifts to mine from between my thighs.

Oh.

He’s calm. Too calm.

“You’re not allowed to be funny during this,” I say, breathless.

His mouth is on me again, and I lose the rest of the sentence.

Pleasure builds low and hot, gathering in a way that makes my whole body tighten. I pull his hair again, harder this time, and his answering groan sends me right over the edge.

“Fuck,” I moan.

“I know.”

He does.

God help me, he does.

When I come, it shocks me. Not because it happens, but because of how hard it rocks me. Pleasure snaps through meosharply I nearly sob. My back arches, my fingers tighten in his hair. His hands hold my hips down, his mouth staying exactly where I need until the last tremor leaves me shaking and teary-eyed on the mattress.

For a second, I hate how vulnerable I feel.

Then he kisses his way back up my body, and I hate that less.

I shove his shoulder, and he stops immediately.

I catch his face between both hands. “Too careful,” I say.

His eyes search mine.

I kiss him before he can ask another responsible question.

He answers with a low sound and finally, finally lets some restraint crack.

His weight settles more fully over me. His mouth turns rougher, and his grip on my hips tightens before moving to my thighs. He spreads me beneath him with a surety that makes my breath hitch.

This is what I wanted.

I reach between us for the button of his jeans, his abdomen tightening under my knuckles.

“Hey,” he says.