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With a devious grin, he trails kisses down my belly until his tongue is there. He’s feasting, swiping, drinking deep. His tongue is wide and hot and licks up my center before sucking on my clit. His fingers move. They enter me, toying with that spot deep inside that I fear. The one that can make me shatter in ways I can never be made whole again.
He leaves my clit when I’m so close and presses his hot tongue where only his fingers have been.
“I’m close. I’m close.”
He hums, and I almost come unglued.
“Layton. Make me come, please.”
“I like thatplease, Pix.”
All at once, he’s everywhere. He’s breached where no one else has ever been, a lone finger playing, rubbing, moving in a way that the pressure building in my core threatens to detonate. Two long fingers enter me, finding my G-spot, pumping, focusing on where the nerves collect.
Hunger swells, and sensation overwhelms me.
He sucks on my clit so hard I see stars, and I scream.
“Oh shit. Oh God. It’s too much.” My body fights against the pleasure that overtakes it, only to succumb to Layton’s touches, and convulses, spasming around his fingers, tightening to expel him and pull him closer at the same time. “Oh God. Oh God. Layton. Oh God.”
“Again.” His one-word reply scares me.
“I can’t. It’s… too much. I’ll die.”
But he’s not listening. He’s adding fingers where I want his cock, and he hums and sucks my clit until the second orgasm crests, crashing on the first.
The throbbing and pulsing in my core are a combination of hunger and satisfaction, desire and fulfillment, a slow throbbing of ultimate pleasure.
I’m wrung out with exhaustion and relaxation.
“That was… Um— I…”
Layton’s eyes peek at me from between my thighs. A mischievous grin plays on his lips before he leans forward and kisses my hip bone.
One chaste kiss after Layton Ranger has claimed every place on my body with his tongue, lips, and fingers. It is the perfect analogy for the man I’m coming to know.
The laugh that springs from me is weak, but real nonetheless.
“That was, um, what? Enough to make you swear?” He climbs over me, not between my parted legs, but outside them. Above me. Surrounding me.
“I didn’t.”
“Oh, but you did, Pix.” His grin is wide, and my arousal still glistens on his chin. He looks away as if trying to remember. When his eyes hit mine again, they’re mischievous. “I believe you saidshit,” he mouths the word like a stage whisper. “And then you called me a god.”
“I did not.”
“Don’t ruin it for me.” He shakes his head. “I know what I heard. You can’t convince me otherwise.”
Playful Layton may be my favorite.
“You taste like a dream. I may be addicted, you know. Going to need another hit of that sweet pussy sooner rather than later.”
His chocolate-brown eyes hold mine as he waits.
“Well, I mean. If you must, you must.”
He throws his head back and laughs, looming large above me. His corded tan arms bracket the sides of my body. I extend a hand and rub my fingers along his defined biceps, cut triceps, shredded forearms that ripple from elbow to wrist. My eyes follow my fingers, playing along the grooves of his arms until a growl snaps me back.
His eyes are hungry and wild when I meet them. His mouth crashes on mine, claiming it.
