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With a final lingering lick, I back away from the hard, glossy crests. “Now offer me your pussy.”
Her breath catches. She bites her lip as she meets my desperate stare—then flares her knees wider and raises her hips to me.
Oh, thank god, yes.
I can’t even pretend to be removed or restrained. I drag my lips down her body without any teasing or finesse, with one imperative in mind.
To get her on my tongue.
Quickly, I wriggle down until I wedge my shoulders between her spread legs and lie on my belly, inches away from the succulent nirvana. She’s swollen and rosy and pouting. When I part her with my thumbs and my gaze devours her most secret flesh, it’s as if I’ve opened a whole new world. Yes, I’ve seen a woman’s pussy before—lots of them. But this is the one I’ve craved for too many years.
My nostrils flare. I bite back a groan of need at her hard red clit silently begging me.
“Jett?”
“Do you tingle?”
“Yes.”
“Do you ache?”
“Yes. I want you so much I’m cramping and throbbing. Please…”
If she’s switched tactics and decided to use my own weakness against me, she couldn’t have played her hand any better.
“Fuck.” I grip her thighs and lift her to my hungry mouth, needing to worship her.
It seems like I’ve waited millions of barren minutes, but I’m finally pressing my greedy mouth against her pussy and dragging my tongue through her folds. Then I suck in her clit, drawing on her, pulling and working her stiff bud until she moans.
The second her spicy-sweet flavor coats my relentless tongue and registers in my brain, all my grand plans to toy with her half the night, then make her pant and scratch her way through a savage blow job before I ramp her up again—only to refuse her relief until she begs me to fuck her however I like—all fall away.
Now I only want her to surrender to the pleasure I give her…and the possibilities of our future.
“Come for me, princess.” I swipe my way through her furrow again, drowning in her taste, desperate for her. “Come.”
Under me, she grips my hair until my scalp tingles, gyrating and mewling, thighs parting more, cunt turning sweeter. “Jett…”
“Do it.” I suck on her clit, tongue working the stone-hard tip. “Give in.”
“Jett,” she gasps, the sound rising another octave as her spine twists and her head falls back.
I glance up at the mirror above. The beautiful agony on her face undoes me. “Goddamn it, you’re mine.”
Relentlessly, methodically, I dismantle her with my touch. I’m never going to get enough of her. Ever. Hell, I’m still half-dressed, and I feel dangerously close to coming undone.
Digging my fingers into her, I press her even more tightly against my mouth and work a pair of fingers into her fist-tight sheath, already tightening and clamping around my digits.
“Jett!”
I barely have a moment to relish the heady broken cry of her surrender before her entire body jolts and shudders. Then she’s clutching, clasping, and breaking around me. Her nipples peak. Hips to cheeks, her body flushes a splashing rosy red. Her lips part, and her eyes flash open.
Our gazes meet in the overhead mirror.
I’ve got her. We both know it.
I ride her to the end of her orgasm, until she’s struggling to recover her breath and her body turns limp, until she sighs sweetly and reaches for me.
I can’t wait another second to claim her.
Goddamn it, I hope she’s the last woman I have sex with for the rest of my life.
I crawl up her sated body, taking advantage of her spread legs to fit my hips between them. With one hand, I cup her nape and fit our mouths together, reveling in the fact that her kiss no longer holds fight, just sweet, open acceptance. I work my free hand between us, make quick work of my zipper, then get my cock free just enough to align my crest to her still-pulsing opening.
Her eyes flutter open. Worry crosses her face. “Jett.”
I grit my teeth. I’ve waited eight years to be inside her, but I can tell she needs to say something. “What, princess?”
“Gently.” She swallows. “Please.”
Everything—both the anger and the passion—is so hot between us. And all this time, she’s fought back. Now she’s asking me for mercy. Why? If I wasn’t so rabid to be inside her, I might be able to apply two brain cells toward finding the answer. But I can’t.
“All right, I will. For you.”
“Thank you.” She smooths her hands up my arms, then cups my shoulders as she spreads her legs wider in silent invitation.
Jesus, how am I supposed to maintain any self-control?
I’m still trying to figure that out when I sink the head of my cock inside her.
And I run into resistance.
Whitney isn’t merely tight, she’s… I freeze. No. That’s not possible. There’s no way.
