Page 21 of Weston’s Treasure

Hell no. That would hurt worse than talking about my mother. Getting a taste of something only to have it ripped from my reach. No way.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to. Unless of course I misread how you were looking at me earlier.”

Jesus, was there anything I could hide? Seriously, this was getting worse by the second.

“I wasn’t—”

“Babe, you were looking at me like you wanted to fuck me right here in the kitchen. And if you deny it, you’re lying. There was no missing the hunger in your eyes, which if you were paying attention, mirror my own. So please, for Christ sakes, fuckin’ kiss me already.”

One second I was trying to come up with a rebuttal and the next I was attacking him.

There was no other way to describe it. I’d literally launched myself into his arms, slammed my mouth on his, and didn’t wait for an invitation before I pushed my tongue between his lips. And then there he was, one hand dove into my hair, the other clamped onto my ass and he hauled me closer. All the while our tongues clashed and dueled. It was not a soft and sweet kiss, it wasn’t a first kiss, it was a battle of wills. Me proving to him I wasn’t what he wanted and him proving I was.

There was no stopping the mew of protest when he pulled his mouth from mine. Then without warning my sweatshirt was up over my head and my t-shirt got tangled in the mess of material, so that went, too. Both his hands went under my pits and he lifted me to the counter. I was in a haze of disbelief and amazement.

On instinct—because there were no coherent thoughts, not when Weston was touching me. Not when he looked at me. And certainly not when I kissed him—my legs went around his waist and I locked my ankles, bringing his hips closer, his dick closer, and his mouth closer.

“Mouth,” he demanded, and I instantly complied.

This time when I kissed Weston, my hands weren’t lamely at my sides, they roamed. I touched and clawed everywhere I could reach. I couldn’t get enough of his taste, the faint smell of soap, the way his hard body fitted against mine. And in a moment of clarity I wondered what the hell I was doing—why hadn’t I removed his shirt so I could feel his bare skin?

I was still contemplating my dilemma when Weston pressed his hips tighter to my core and excitement shot through me. There were layers of clothes separating us, but his hard-on couldn’t be missed. It was there, right there, rubbing against my clit and the feel of it was so good I couldn’t stop myself from taking more. I moved my hips, needing more friction, needing him closer, needing the orgasm that was building.

“Christ,” Weston growled, and shoved his face into my neck. Not giving me a chance to mourn the loss of his tongue tangling with mine, he started licking and nibbling on my neck and that felt really good, too.

Weston’s hands went to my ass and pulled me closer to the edge of the counter, my legs spreading wider, and I rubbed myself harder. That felt even better.

“I cannot wait to get you in my bed. Naked. Laid out before me so I can see every part of you,” he said against my skin. His hand traveled up my back. He unhooked my bra and used his chin to push the loose material of one of the cups away. “Cannot wait to taste you.”

His mouth latched on to my nipple, and like everything else Weston did it wasn’t gentle, it was rough and demanding and oh-so-good. My hips bucked and a moan tore from my throat.

So close.

“Don’t stop,” I begged.

“Not stopping, babe.”

He moved to the other side but this time before he sucked my sensitive nipple into his mouth he bit down. The pain felt erotic, illicit, and shot straight to my pussy. I’d never felt anything like it, and as my insides clenched and my clit hummed I wanted him to fill me up so bad I was ready to beg. Ready to rip my pants off and take him right there in the kitchen.

More. I needed more.

9

“More,” Silver demanded.

Good Christ, the kiss had not gone to plan. Weston had meant to prove a point, however, the second Silver’s lips had touched his, he couldn’t for the life of him remember what that point was. Then she went wild and let loose and he lost all control. Everything about Silver felt right. Her tongue in his mouth, her body pressed against him, her legs wrapped around his hips, and most especially her pussy grinding on his cock in her quest to get off.

Jesus fuck, but she felt good. Never had a woman ignited for him so quickly. Never had a kiss turned him on so much. He hadn’t meant to allow it to go this far, but now that Weston had tasted her pretty pink nipples, had seen the way they pebbled before his mouth had even touched them, he was all in and nothing would stop him until she was moaning her orgasm.

The hell of it was, he might be joining her. The hell part was because he was going to shoot off in his pants like an untried virgin. Just knowing her pussy was wet and she was close to coming was enough to make his balls tingle and his cock throb.

Silver’s back arched and her heels dug into Weston’s lower back. Both actions made him grind into her harder. He fisted her hair, forcing her head back so he could have a go at her neck.

“Babe,” he mumbled against the base of Silver’s throat, and loved the way she shook in his arms. “Get yourself there.”

“Can’t,” she panted.