Page 71 of The Mr. Right Checklist

“Destiny.” His voice is low and gravelly, dripping with lust as he tangles his hands in my hair and guides my mouth to his nipple. I lick and tease, earning salacious moans that fuel my cravings for him. I graze my teeth over his sensitive flesh, and he grits out, “Fuck.” His hands tighten in my hair, sending stings of pain and pleasure slicing through me. I sear a path down his body, greedily kissing and touching every inch of him, until I’m on my knees with his heavy cock in my hand, and he’s looking down at me with fire in his eyes.

Water rains down his lean, muscular frame. I hold his gaze as I drag my tongue around and over the broad head of his cock. His jaw clenches, his eyes hungry as a wolf’s. I continue teasing along his length and around the crown, loving the way his cock jerks in my hand with every slick of my tongue. When I guide it into my mouth, I do it slowly, sucking just the head, then drawing it out and dragging my tongue around and over it again. I take him a little deeper, sucking and stroking, reading his body, watching his muscles flex, the tension building as I withdraw again. Each time I swallow more of him, he curses. His entire body cords tight, and he cups my cheek with one hand. I know he wants to take control, but he lets me set the pace. I’ve never enjoyed doing this before, but with Fletch, I’m desperate for it, and I’m getting off on the control.

When I finally take him to the back of my throat, his head falls forward with a hiss. I work him slowly at first, my hand chasing my lips, sliding tight and hot along his shaft.

“You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth.”

Chasing that praise like it’s candy, increasing my speed.

“That’s it,” he growls, midnight-blue eyes trained on me. “Tight and fast . . . So good. Cradle my balls.”

I do as he asks, and I’m shocked at how much it turns me on. I’m wet and swollen, chasing his orgasm and, incredibly, building my own.

“Fuck, that feels good.” He tightens his grip in my hair, holding me still, and brushes his thumb over the seam where my lips meet his cock. “Christ, sunshine. Your mouth is exquisite.”

His words twine around my heart, and I devour that praise. My desire heightens with every impossibly slow and deliciously deep pump of his hips. “Like that, baby?” he grits out. “Touch yourself while I fuck your mouth.” I’m so into him, into this and us, there’s no room for embarrassment. I reach between my legs, and as my fingers slide over my sensitive nerves, I moan around his cock. “That’s it, baby. Jesus, you’re sexy.” He continues thrusting at the same pace, and I match his rhythm with my fingers between my legs, bringing a whole new level of excitement. He pumps faster, and I quicken my efforts between my legs. The lust in his eyes tells me I’m taking us both higher. “Is that okay? Not too fast?”

I nod eagerly, hoping to convey how much I want this. He’s letting me in, and I’m learning what he likes. I do not want to stop. He puts his hand over my hand that’s on his balls and squeezes. “Yeah. Fuck, that’s good.” He brushes his fingers around my lips. “I want to come in your mouth, sunshine. If you don’t want me to, it’s okay. But I need to know so I can pull out.” I give his balls a tug, and the wickedness flaming in his eyes is inescapable. He traces the seam of my lips around his cock again. “That’s my girl.” My girl. I know he’s not my Mr. Right, but at that moment, for the life of me, I can’t remember why. Then he takes control, burying both hands in my hair, hips thrusting perfectly fast and dangerously deep, obliterating my ability to think at all.

“Keep touching yourself. Think of my mouth on you,” he grits out, breathing harder.

Lord, this man could make me come just by saying things like that. I moan around his cock, and he pumps faster. “So fucking good.” His thighs flex, and he makes a guttural sound that sends my insides into a flurry as he surrenders to his powerful release, hips thrusting, growls emanating with every hot, salty jet. I stay with him, hanging on the edge of my own orgasm, but I don’t chase it. I don’t want to miss a second of this fine man losing himself in me.

When his body goes slack, he withdraws from my mouth with a sharp inhalation and tugs me to my feet. His eyes brim with emotions. “You wreck me, beautiful.” He crushes his mouth to mine, thrusting his hand between my legs. Two fingers push inside me, and his thumb zeros in on my clit, sending me up on my toes as he works his magic, and I follow him into ecstasy.

And then I’m floating, and the world starts to come back into focus. Warm water slips between us, and he lowers his mouth to my shoulder, biting and kissing, his fingers finding their pace again. I greedily soak in every tantalizing touch and lower my mouth to his nipple. He moans, his fingers quickening, applying more pressure on just the right spot, stealing my ability to focus again. I rest my forehead against his chest, panting, another orgasm just out of reach.

He tugs my head back and crushes his mouth to mine again. My back meets the cold, wet tile, and he kisses his way down my body, palming my breasts, teasing the nipples with his mouth and hands, sending prickling heat racing through me. He nips, licks, and kisses, hitting each of my pleasure points he so patiently and diligently discovered, lingering on them, cherishing them like treasures, until I’m a moaning, writhing mess of desire, begging for more.

He sinks to his knees, sliding his fingers through my swollen sex, visually devouring me as he spreads my trembling legs, holding me open. He flicks that sensitive spot with his tongue, sending shivers of heat racing through me. “Ohgod—” His mouth is next, licking, sucking, devouring. He knows just how to get me there. I squirm and moan, scintillating sensations engulfing me as his fingers dip inside, expertly finding that spot that makes my legs weak. I grab his shoulders, my insides swelling, pulsing, reaching for the orgasm that’s barreling toward me like a runaway train. “Fletch. Ohhhh, Fletch—” The impact sends me crashing into a world of lights and sounds and us.

He stays with me until I come down from the peak, and then he rises to his feet, hard again. The feel of his erection against me and the lust pooling in his eyes make me want so much more. I’ve never trusted any man enough to have sex without a condom, but I trust Fletch. “I need you inside me.” I hear the desperation in my own voice, and I don’t care. “I’m protected.”

The second the words leave my lips, he’s lifting me up and lowering me onto his cock. We both moan, and he wraps his strong arms around me. “Don’t move, baby. You feel so fucking good. I want to live inside you.”

Welcome home is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down, telling myself it’s the lust talking.

“You’re so tight and hot and fucking perfect. It’s never been like this.”

I pluck those dangerous words out of the air and tuck them away with the other sweet things I’ve been stockpiling and cover his mouth with mine, trying to outrun the emotions that feel like they’re drilling into my soul.

Chapter Twenty-One

DESTINY

“I think you should go with a maxi dress. It says confident and classy, without being over the top.” Ruby points to a mannequin wearing a green maxi dress. “That’s a great color.”

It’s Wednesday evening, and we’re at a clothing boutique, shopping for a dress for me to wear to dinner with Fletch’s family, and then she and I are going out for Thai food. We’ve both been so busy, it’s been a while since we’ve gone out, and I’ve missed spending one-on-one time with her. I feel like I’ve worked a zillion hours over the last six days, but it’s been worth it. The pieces of Arjun’s proposal are coming together nicely, and I’ve signed two more clients.

“Do you think I can pull one off?” My hips are so narrow, longer dresses tend to make me look like a boy with tiny boobs. “Shorter dresses give the illusion of curvy hips, and they always make my boobs look better.”

“Stop being ridiculous. You can pull off anything. You’ve got a killer body under that T-shirt and shorts.”

I wouldn’t say killer, but Fletch appreciates it. Thinking of him brings the familiar flare of something warm and fluttery to my chest.

“And if you don’t believe me,” she says as we head for the rack with the maxi dresses, “just ask your fuck buddy.”

“Can you not call him that?” I grab a dress off the rack and hold it up to get a better look.