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High Sticking the Heart

Page 92

by Marie Maravilla

“Dalton,” she moaned, keeping her legs around my waist as I used one hand to lift the hem of her sleep shirt. My movements were frantic and messy as I slid the shirt over her head, revealing her perky tits.

Fuck.

I took one nipple into my mouth, loving how her back arched when I swirled my tongue over it, alternating between sucking hard and soft. I smiled at how her sounds got so desperate, she was barely forming coherent words.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” I said, moving to give attention to her other nipple. I was desperate for her, coming apart at the seams. I needed more. The hottest moan I’d ever heard in my life echoed off the walls as I paused my attention to her breasts standing back up to grind myself into her silk-covered pussy.

“Yes,” she hissed when I reached for the waistband of her shorts. “Don’t stop.”

I slid them down her tanned legs, letting my tongue follow their path. A sting radiated from where she tangled her hand in my hair.

“Want me somewhere in particular, Sunshine?” I asked with a chuckle, making no effort to move any faster. I’d fucking waited for this, and I wanted it to last.

Her wet, tight body writhed on the dresser. “Please,” she begged, arching her hips toward my mouth.

“That wasn’t an answer.”

She made an irritated noise, eyes popping open, so much fire in them I swore heat licked up my body. “You want specifics, Thatcher?” Her brow arched in challenge, the sting from my scalp increasing as she tightened her grip, guiding my face so it was an inch from her bare pussy.

I smirked at her ire.

Running my tongue up her wet slit, slow and unhurried, I swirled it around the bundle of nerves, watching the way her eyes fluttered shut. She let out a breathy moan that went straight to my cock. But she wasn’t getting off that easily. I pulled away again, loving the way her head hit the wall in frustration.

“You fucking tease.”

FORTY-TWO

ARIELLA

RAW, NEXT QUESTION…

He was everywhere and nowhere I needed him all at the same damn time.

“I need you to touch me, Dalton,” I pleaded.

He nipped at the sensitive skin on my neck, caressing the sting with his tongue. “I am touching you, Ari. You’re going to need to be more specific than that.”

Asshole. He knew what I wanted but he was going to make me work for it—beg for it.

My head met the wall again, back arching, and I gave in. “I want you to bury your fucking fingers into my pussy, Thatcher.”

He let out a low growl—I hadn’t realized men actually made that sound until him—picking me up and practically sprinting to the bed with me in his arms, dropping me on the soft mattress.

“Jesus Christ.”

The devilish grin he shot me should have warned me about what he was about to say.

“Think he knew he was dying for the sins we’re about to perform in this bed?” My mouth dropped open as Dalton dropped to his knees, shoving his broad shoulders between my thighs to spread them apart further, just like he had in my office.

I couldn’t even tell him how wrong that was to say, too distracted by the rough feel of his palms traveling up my legs.

“Every fucking day I think about these gorgeous legs being wrapped around my head,” he growled into my inner thigh. The scruff on his face left a delicious burn on the inside.

“Fuck, you’re so warm and wet for me, Sunshine.” His fingers traveled to my bare center and we both let out a hiss when he reached his destination.

I was never going to survive this, everything heightened by the emotions we’d just shared.

By the fact that this was real.