Page 56 of More Than My Hometown

“You. Always you.”

Ewan growls, the sound no longer borderline. It’s full-on feral. Like a man possessed, his focus dialed all the way in, he takes my wrists and pins them above my head, holding them in place with one hand while the other skims down my naked body. The move unlocks something in me, eliciting a shiver somewhere deep, my soul cracking open.

Ready and willing to do whatever he wants. As long as he keeps touching me.

“Fuck, you are gorgeous, Maisey.”

His kiss is potent, powerful, and full of so much raw emotion I can’t help but reciprocate, pouring everything I have into this moment. Into him. Wanting to make it last.

“The thought of you playing with yourself, thinking of me…fuuuuck,” he growls, nipping at my earlobe. “But here’s the thing, baby, all those better orgasms, are about to move down the list. There’s a new sheriff in town.”

I have no doubt…

I start to respond—make a smart-ass comment about the new sheriff—until Ewan moves his free hand, slipping it in between my legs and sliding a finger inside me.

“Faaaa!”

I cry out, new sensations taking over as Ewan works his way down my torso, branding my skin with hot, wet, open-mouth kisses. He moves his finger slowly, teasing my entrance, and I start to go dizzy, not sure which pleasure to focus on, his mouth or his hand. Or maybe that swirling feeling that is starting to build in my belly, the more he moves, the more it grows, like a hurricane generating its power.

Power that feels as if it could ignite at any moment.

I am so turned on—so on edge—from everything Ewan has done and said, I feel like I’m going to combust. Like at any moment, the next touch could be the one to send me flying.

A live wire ready to spark, I whimper as he moves his kisses to the insides of my thighs, his scruff tickling my skin. Dragging his finger through my wetness, he cuts the trail short, avoiding my clit, continuing the taunt.

“I think you might be sweeter than you were the other day,” he says, licking me from his finger. “But the only way I’m going to know is a taste straight from the source.”

Warm breath skirts over my bare skin, my eyes fluttering shut from the sensation. One that is quickly replaced by something else. Pure, unadulterated, carnal pleasure.

Ewan drags his tongue through my folds, licking from one end of me to the other, like I’m an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. If my eyes weren’t already closed, they’d be slamming shut, the inability to focus on anything other than each new flick and swish taking over.

Holy shit…

He continues, not letting up. If anything, I think the more noise I make, the harder he goes, spurred on by my cries. The swirling in my gut speeds up, spreading through me, threatening to take over. I’m ready to give in, to let this feeling have its way with me.

“Come for me, baby…”

Ewan’s words are somewhere between a demand and a prayer. Rough, but revered. Soft, but powerful. Paired with the two fingers that slide inside me, swiping against the spot that he found so easily, there is no other option but to comply.

For someone who hasn’t done this but one or twice, the man certainly seems to know his way around a woman’s body. Specifically, my body.

Pleasure hits me hard and fast, lightning zinging down my spine. I reach for Ewan, needing something to hold on to, not wanting to lose contact. He grips my thighs harder, doubling down on his efforts, making sure to leave no part of me untouched. Fireworks flash behind my eyelids, and I scream.

The sound is loud enough to be heard halfway to Atlanta, much less downstairs. If anyone is still left in the store, there’s no question what’s going on up here. But I don’t care. Right now the only thing that matters is Ewan.

And getting him inside me.

Pushing his head back from between my thighs, I scramble to grab ahold of him, trying to yank him up my body. He chuckles, getting the message, slithering his way along my naked form, my extra sensitive post-orgasm skin not sure how to react to the feel of his clothes.

Why the fuck is he still wearing clothes?!

I grab at his shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. My fingers don’t work properly—like I’m all thumbs—the soft cotton almost too pliable in them at this moment. They won’t grip. Fuck it, focus on the pants. Those are the important part. He can fuck me with a shirt on. Pants? Not so much. Those have to come off.

That’s nonnegotiable.

As I move my focus to the fly of his jeans, Ewan puts his hands on mine, stopping me. I look up at him, letting out a frustrated huff. What is he doing? I need him naked. Now.

“In a hurry?” he chuckles, kissing me gently.