I grind against his knee. Shamelessly. My jeans are still on, but it hardly matters. My whole body is tuned to him, and between my legs I’m throbbing, achy and desperate.
Struan finally lets my nipple go with a softpopand glances down at my denim-clad hips. “Would you like me to eat you out, Ainsley?”
His crude words, said in that low, raspy voice, are enough to make my toes curl.
I nod desperately, not even pretending to play it cool. “Yes, please.”
He grins wickedly. “So polite, Miss Reid.”
He shifts me further up the bed and kneels between my legs, hands working at the button of my jeans. I brace myself on my elbows, watching his fingers, deft and sure, as he pops the button and drags down the zip.
I lift my hips to help him slide my jeans—and then my knickers—down and off.
Suddenly I’m completely naked, with Struan Walker kneeling between my thighs and looking at me like I’m the answer to every question he’s ever had about happiness.
Vulnerability crashes over me. I’mexposed. The light is unforgiving and there’s nowhere to hide.
But then Struan glances up at me, and his expression shifts. Softens.
“You’re lovely,” he says. “And I’m crazy about you. But if you want to slow down or even stop, that’s more than okay.”
That tenderness—the total lack of pressure—is what makes me certain about this.
“No,” I say firmly. “I want this.”
Something flares in his eyes. He kisses my mouth, hungry but somehow still gentle, and then trails kisses down my body. Over my ribs. Across my stomach. And lower still.
When he settles between my thighs again, he looks up at me—face haloed by those tawny curls, eyes full of absolute mischief—and I feel more naked than ever. “Do you always wax it all away?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. And literally everywhere else. “Aye... usually.”
“Mmm.” He turns back to look at me—atallof me—and spreads me open with two callused fingers.
“I can see everything.” There’s a reverent gravel in his voice. “You’re so pink, and so fucking wet. Is this really all for me, Ainsley?”
I make a sound. Something between a whimper and a moan that just about passes foryes.
The first brush of his tongue is slow and deliberate—a long lick up through slick folds that has me gasping out loud. He moans into me like I’m the best thing he’s tasted all year.
And then he does it again. And again. Each pass firmer than the last until I’m trembling beneath him.
He takes his time exploring every inch, sucking gently on my clit until stars spark behind my eyelids, then flattening his tongue wide before flicking just right, exactly how I need it. Goosebumps pebble across my skin. Pleasure builds tight as a fist inside me.
Struan pauses sometimes just to murmur things against me: “God, you taste incredible... so sweet... could stay here forever licking your perfect wee cunt.”
Each filthy compliment only makes things worse—by which I mean better, of course.
I’m shameless, hips tilting up for more as his stubble scorches delicate skin. My fingers find his hair—those newly shortened curls—and grip hard.
Then a finger slides inside me. A thick press that has me keening. And soon another joins it while his mouth works over my clit. He thrusts them slow at first, then harder, reading my every shiver and gasp.
I realise with delirious clarity that, as he devours me, he’s grinding into the mattress beneath us, desperate for friction against his cock. Somehow that knowledge pushes me right to the edge.
“Struan—” I gasp, my voice breaking. “I’m going to?—”
“Aye,” he growls against me, the vibration making me shudder. “Come for me, Ainsley. Let me feel it.”
His fingers curl inside me, hitting a spot that makes my vision blur, while his tongue flicks fast and relentless over my clit.
