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I cupped the swell of her tit and pinched her tender little nipple over and over to hear her gasp. She cried out when I sucked hard on her neck. Christ, I wanted to bury myself in her and it was dangerous.
Getting her out of her clothes took seconds. Spread out below me on the bed, she was soft, hot, solid. Her long hair was the color of earth, scattered over the light brown expanse of her curves, marked by the darkness of her nipples and the little patch of hair between her legs — a strip of black I wanted to sink into and never leave.
“Perfect.” I smiled at her nakedness. I kissed her, and she arched toward me as my lips moved down her skin. When I nipped her stomach, covering her pussy with my palm, she clutched my hair and closed her thighs around my hand.
I lifted my head. “Legs apart, sweetheart.”
A shiver ran over her. We both knew damn well I’d never called her that before. She bit her lip. Slowly, she opened her thighs.
“More,” I ordered.
Keeping her eyes on mine, she took a deep breath. Grasping her legs behind the knees, she pulled them open into a near-perfect split. I covered my surprise.
“Is that far enough for you?” Her embarrassment showed, tempered with a flash of pride.
“Still such a good cheerleader,” I murmured. A host of complicated expressions crossed her face. I peeled open her swollen lips, flushed and slick with excitement, and blew on her tender clit.
“Patrick…” My name slipped from her mouth, halfway between a snarl and a plea, exactly how I craved it.
Very lightly, I ran my tongue over her rosy lips. I knew it embarrassed her to be eaten out.
“So beautiful.” I stroked her, teasing her tight cunt with one finger. “So fucking wet and waiting.”
She whimpered. Why was I pouring on the compliments?
“Angel,” I whispered. I wasn’t normally into that term of endearment. Angels were angels. Girls were girls. There was no intersection between the two.
She let out a thready breath. “I can’t figure you out. Oh—” She thrust upward, her inhibitions fading as I pushed her arousal higher. I dragged my tongue over the pink petals of her cunt. The tightness in her thighs relaxed, and her hands clasped the back of my head. “Do you still want me to hate you?”
I didn’t answer. Her clit was in my mouth, and her moans were beginning to spill over.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she panted.
I sucked harder.
Livia never wanted me to be anything less than an asshole in bed — or anything more. What I was doing right now wouldn’t have gotten her off. She would have been bored at best; repulsed at worst. She wanted to be treated like dirt, twisted and crushed beneath my shoe. But Christina was quivering in my hands, her thighs shaking uncontrollably as I ate her out.
I cupped her ass, pulling back, and waited until her eyes, hot and shiny, locked on mine.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
Her head jerked up. Her cheeks were red.
“Don’t.”
“What do you mean, don’t?”
“Don’t make fun of me that way. I know you like to push my buttons and fuck with my mind. But I’m not beautiful.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I—” her eyes darted away and back. “I at least trust you to tell me the truth. Before — I got compliments all the time, but I never actually believed them.”
I stared up at her from between her legs. “I’m not your ex-boyfriend.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? I don’t think you do. If I say you’re beautiful, it’s because you are.”
