Page 78 of Jonas

“You tell me.” I pulled my hand free and lifted it between us, offering my fingers to Jonas.

With a feral rumble, Jonas took my offering. His tongue wrapped around my fingers, and if that wasn’t enough to make my sex (more) drenched, my breasts swell (more), my pulse pound (more), the way his eyes held mine as he sucked those fingers deep into his mouth would’ve done all that and more.

My out-of-body experience continued, leaving me reduced to nothing more than a ball of lust.

“Please,” I begged.

His tongue kept working my fingers, but the area around his eyes crinkled. No doubt—had his mouth not been occupied, his lips would’ve curved into a smile.

“If you don’t fuck me in the next two minutes I might die,” I pled.

With a swift jerk of my wrist, he popped my fingers out of his mouth. The wolfish grin I knew he’d hidden when his tongue was busy appeared.

“Two minutes?”

Now that I had the sexy rumble of his voice back, two minutes just turned into one.

“Is that question an admission you’re not up for the task?”

“No, baby,” he rasped. “But I don’t like to be rushed when I eat.”

Before I could process what he’d said, he used his grip on my wrist to pull me out of the bathroom, down the hall, then into the bedroom.

It wasn’t until Jonas’s hands were on my hips and he was hoisting me onto the bed did his comment register.

He wasted no time waiting for me to settle before he tossed my legs over his shoulders and dove in.

All the way in, leading with his tongue spearing through my wet, until he replaced it with his fingers, and latched onto my clit.

Sweet Mother of Pussy Lickers, Jonas Lang was a miracle. No, he was a master—a Cuntlicker Master.

Or was it cunnilingus?

He was both!

“Ohmigod,” I breathed.

With both hands fisting the sheets, I lifted my hips, reaching for an orgasm that was primed and ready.

He ate pussy better than he kissed. He ate like he was starved, like I was the last woman on earth and any second I’d evaporate into thin air.

“Jonas,” I moaned.

My thighs quivered with my impending orgasm. My stomach muscles clenched.

I was riding the edge when I lost Jonas and his magical tongue, not to mention his beard. He came up over me and my legs fell open. I felt him working a hand between my legs, but before I could protest, he slammed home.

My back arched off the bed and I cried out.

Holy.

Fuck.

“Jonas,” I whimpered.

“One minute fifty seconds. But just saying, I want more of that sweet pussy when I’m not courting your death on my conscience.”

He’d been counting.