Page 62 of Big Dill

“And?”

“Hands at your sides.”

I lower them, letting my gaze meet his. It’s like he can read me, knows exactly what I need. His finger points at my panties. “Take them off. I want to see your pussy again. It’s been too fucking long.”

My pulse leaps. I love the way he takes control, but I can’t resist teasing him. I hook a finger in the elastic, step closer, pressing my breasts near his face, then slide them down.

When I straighten, his eyes are blazing. “You are the sexiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” My body quakes under his gaze. He crooks a finger. “Come here.”

My knees wobble as I step up to him.

“Spread your legs.”

I obey, and he slides to the edge of the couch, nose brushing my stomach, breathing me in. His hands trace up and down my outer thighs, light and deliberate.

“You always smell so good,” he murmurs.

He pulls me closer. One hand slips between my thighs, and a shiver of shared moans fills the room as he spreads me open.

“Right here…” His eyes lock on mine, dark with need. “These are the lips I’ve really been wanting to kiss, Jami.”

I swallow. “Yeah?”

He spreads me slightly and leans in, licking from bottom to top. I grip his shoulders as my legs threaten to give out.

“God, Brody.”

“Mmm,” he moans, licking his lips, looking up at me. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Taste… yes.

My mouth… oh, him… now.

“I want—” I begin, but the words die on my lips as he slides a thick finger all the way inside, and every coherent thought vanishes.

“Oh…” I close my eyes briefly as a zing of pleasure shoots through my blood. “That…that…”

“Are you saying you like this?” His voice is husky, teasing, as he moves his finger in and out, lips back on my clit.

I scramble for words. “God, no…this is like one of those meetings that could have been an email.”

His chuckle vibrates through me, and I shut my eyes as nerves spark with every slick, skillful stroke. How does he bring me here so fast? Probably because it’s been so long, and every moment in Churchill Falls so far has been nothing but foreplay.

He adds another finger, and I can feel my legs threatening to give way. Quick as a flash, he grabs blankets from the cubby, tossing them to the floor, and lays me down. He yanks off his shirt like he can’t stand the barrier of fabric, skin needing skin. One hand pins my hips to the blankets, holding me down hard, as he positions himself between my thighs.

Then he buries his face.

The tip of his tongue traces over my clit, while his fingers dip back inside me. The restraint itself—his strong hands keeping me pinned—adds a delicious layer of tension. Music swells around us, mingling with my rapid breaths as he orchestrates me with masterful precision.

I try to lift my hips, but his hand flattens against my stomach. A keening cry escapes me, letting him know exactly how much I’m loving it.

“God, yes…just like that,” I moan, tossing my head from side to side.

He shifts his rhythm, two fingers now moving inside me, one curling to tease the secret spot only he’s been ever able to find. My mouth opens, but no sound comes. Small tremors ripple through me. When he draws my swollen clit between his teeth, they surge stronger still.

He senses me coming apart, and his low moan pushes me over the edge.

My body lets go, curling upward as release crashes through me in wave after wave. Every nerve ignites, a private storm where only I—and the man between my legs—exist. My sex floods around him, and he stays deep, savoring every last drop.