I perch on the cool buttoned leather cushion and look at him as he tilts my chin up and leans down to press a lingering kiss to my mouth.
“I’ve been dreaming of having you sit here while I make you come,” he says darkly.
He drops to the floor and slides my skirt up my thighs.
“Lift,” he instructs.
I glance toward the hallway where Molly’s bedroom is. “Sull?—”
“I turned the monitor on. I’ll know if she gets out of bed.”
He hooks his thumbs underneath the edges of my panties.
I lift my hips for him, allowing him to slide the black lace all the way down my legs. He holds the fabric up to his face, and my wetness gleams on it.
My breath hitches as Sullivan extends his tongue and licks the fabric. “Fuck, Tate. Do you have any idea…” He shakes his head, balling the fabric in his hand, and turning his attention back to me.
“Any idea what?” I breathe as he pushes my skirt higher, exposing my pussy.
He presses a kiss directly to it and pauses to inhale before pressing another, longer one against me.
I whimper and part my thighs wider, needing to feel him closer.
“Any idea what you do to me?” he rasps, shoving my skirt so high that it bunches around my waist.
He slips his hands around my knees and yanks me forward on the stool.
“Wider,” he growls. “Wide enough that I can taste your cunt the way I need to.”
His words send a shot of molten heat hurtling through my veins, and I part my legs as far as I can, leaning against the piano for support.
“Fuck,” Sullivan groans as he pushes his head between my legs and licks me from my asshole to my clit.
I cry out and grab his hair. My back hits the piano keys and a deep crash of notes blare out.
“Open those eyes, Tate. You’re going to watch this.”
I peel open my heavy lids and look at him on his knees at my feet. His blue eyes spark as he holds my eyes and eats me out with rich groans, sliding his tongue over me, kissing me, and lapping up each new wave of wetness that my body creates.
He’s making me so insanely wet that my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
He grips my thighs and holds them wide, massaging the sensitive skin with his thumbs.
“Don’t you dare hold back,” he groans. “I want you to drown me in it.”
He sucks on my clit and slides two fingers inside me, curling them toward my G-spot.
I cry out, corkscrewing his hair and making him grunt.
Wet sounds echo between us as my body greedily sucks him in, his arm flexing with each thrust as he finger-fucks me until I’m gasping.
“That’s it, Baby.” He tongues my clit and squeezes the flesh on my thigh with one hand.
He groans against my soaked flesh, pushing his whole face into me and twisting it side to side as he eats me out savagely, pushing me right to my limit.
Any concerns I had over them once being referred to as ‘thunder thighs’ vanish as Sullivan looks at me like he’s a man on the edge, barely holding back from throwing me to the ground and fucking me into next year.
As if reading my thoughts, he holds my eyes and growls, “I always loved a good storm, Baby.”
