His eyes slide to my hand.
“I like it.” I drag my tongue over the back, the sharp, salty tang even more intoxicating than his sweat. “A lot.”
Another growl.
Then he’s grabbing the box of tissues from his nightstand, grabbing a wad of them and mopping up his stomach, my fingers.
He tosses them to the side, plants a palm in the middle of my chest and topples me backward onto the mattress.
“Your shoulder!”
“Someone could drop a nuke on me right now and I wouldn’t feel a thing.” He kisses me—no, he devours my mouth in a flurry of lips and teeth and tongue. A tug has my pajamas down around my ankles. Another has them flying to the side. “Open for me,” he says, sliding his palm down my belly, over the top of my pussy, pressing lightly.
I shudder.
“Spread your legs, baby,” he coaxes.
Resisting the urge to do exactly that, to take when I was trying only to give, I shake my head, press my thighs together. “I was trying to make you feel good.”
“Congrats.” A wicked smile. “Mission accomplished.”
A nip to my bottom lip before I can reply, those glorious fingers stroking lightly over my labia.
“Now,” he growls. “Spread your fucking legs, Teach.”
Thirty-Two
Colt
I’m hard.
Again.
That dangerous tongue lapping up my cum.
The slick folds of her cunt when she hesitates for only one more heartbeat before she spreads her legs for me.
“So pretty,” I rasp. “So pink.” I want her legs tossed over my shoulders, my face buried in that pussy.
But even though I’m not feeling any pain, I don’t think I can eat her out with only one arm.
Game to try when Doc won’t kill me, though.
“So wet,” she says and my dick twitches, reminding me of its state, urging me to not just touch, but to thrust into her, to feel the slick, tight clasp of her around me.
Not today.
Not yet.
I stroke through her, coating my fingers and dragging them back up, circling the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.
“Colt,” she whispers.
“You’re close already, aren’t you, Teach?” I circle and circle, teasing, then slide down again, dipping my finger into the hot, wet sheath of her. “Just from touching me.” I slip my finger free, bring it to my mouth, to my tongue. “From tasting me.”
“I like you on my tongue,” she says, watching me as I lick the slick tang of her desire from my finger. “Same as you like the flavor of me.”
“Hmm,” I drawl, slipping my hand between her legs again. “I’m going to have to watch out for you, aren’t I?”
