I am in so much fucking trouble with how much I want her.
“Fuck that,” she agrees.
She pushes up on her tiptoes while she pulls my head down to her level, and then Laney Kingston, the prim-and-proper buttoned-up princess of Snaggletooth Creek, licks my lips before thrusting her tongue into my mouth.
There’s no kissing foreplay.
It’s all deep and hard and instant, diving in headfirst without measuring the depth of the creek.
And the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life is to let her be in charge.
But it’s also the hottest thing I’ve ever done.
Who knew Laney Kingston would be so invested in fucking my mouth with her tongue while gripping my hair and turning us so she can walk me back toward the bedroom with her?
I thought I was hard last night when she was riding me in the car. I thought I was hard just a bit ago in the kitchen when she was stroking my cock in her bare hands.
But having Laney using her body and her hands and her tongue to boss me around is making me so hard it hurts.
In the best fucking way.
“I want to strip you naked,” she breathes against my lips.
“Whatever you want, princess.”
“We should have a safe word.”
There’s zero chance I need a safe word with Laney. She saved my kittens. She can do anything she wants to me. “Your choice.”
“Rumpelstiltskin.”
I crack up.
Can’t help it.
“Right.” There’s barely a blue ring visible around her dark, wide pupils, and her breath is coming in short gasps while she walks me through the doorway to our bedroom. “Too long. Beans. Beans should be our safe word.”
“You gonna remember that when I’m ripping your pussy to shreds with my big, thick cock?”
“Oh my god. More. Talk more. All the dirty things.”
“Kiss me. Earn it.”
She whimpers softly, and then she’s shoving me down onto the bed, straddling me, and kissing me like she’ll drown if she doesn’t.
Maybe she will.
Maybe she’ll suffocate under the weight of all those fucking expectations, and I’m the only person standing there next to her, urging her to leap for her life.
I’m the difference between living her life for someone else and living her life the way she wants to.
“Touch me, Theo,” she gasps between kisses.
“Where?”
She straightens, rips her dress off, getting her hands tangled in the process and giving me the most fabulous view of her bouncing, rosy-tipped breasts.
I want to hold them. Suck on them. Bite them. Worship them. And it takes every ounce of control I don’t have to keep my hands on her hips instead of all over her chest.
