“I just got here,” he adds.
“You weren’t—” I cut myself off from askingFucking me with your fingers?
Shaking his head, he sinks down on the edge of the bed, clearly knowing what I was about to ask. “No. I wouldn’t touch you like that while you were asleep.”
Oh, right. “Of course.”
He roams his hand over my thigh, covered by the blanket. “Were you dreaming?”
“I guess,” I say, feeling a little embarrassed. I fiddle with the covers. Was I moaning out loud? Punching up my hips? I can only imagine how horny I must have looked if he saw that. “I was baking earlier. Well, prepping for tomorrow. I made the dough for sugar cookies. For Christmas.” And now I’m rambling.
“I had a feeling,” he says, nodding to the stairs that lead down to the kitchen. He must have seen some of the mixing bowls I left out as he walked through Afternoon Delight. Tilting his head, he studies me with a furrowed brow, eyes soft in the moonlight. His dark hair is a little messy, his stubble thicker than it’s been lately. “You okay?”
It’s asked with such concern.
I tug the blanket up, protecting myself as I say something vulnerable. No point hiding it. My weird mood is obvious. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
He slides his hand down my arm. “I thought when you said slip over in the middle of the night that’s what you wanted. The middle of the night.”
I wince. He took me literally. He waited to show up when I asked him to. And I worked myself up for no reason. “I did say that. I’m being silly,” I say, waving a hand like I can dismiss my own desire for him to have arrived earlier.
His lips curve in amusement. “You were wanting me over sooner?”
I say nothing.
“You were wanting me,” he says, too pleased.
“Shut up,” I mutter.
His smile grows into a full-blown smirk. “I did what you wanted, but you were horny and wanting me, and also annoyed I didn’t show up right away to eat your sweet, sweet pussy?”
Now he’s just gloating. “I admitted I was being silly.”
He brandishes his phone, miming typing. “You could have texted.Corbin, get your mouth over here.”
I huff. “I was honest and admitted I was sad when I thought you weren’t coming, and now you’re making fun of me.”
He arches a brow, giving me the most satisfied look ever. “You were sad that you weren’t coming on my tongue.” Setting the phone on a nightstand, he tugs down the blanket. “Spread those thighs, Mabel. I’m a man of my word.”
“Jerk,” I mutter, but I’m pushing the covers the rest of the way.
“Say that when you’re fucking my tongue.” His grin turns wicked. “Better yet. Why don’t you just sit on my face? That’ll remind you that you have the power to summon me.” He leans closer, that campfire-and-lake scent seducing me. “You have all the power to text me and tell me to come over and fuck you with my tongue. And I will come running.”
A hot spark shoots down my chest. “I felt foolish for wondering if you were coming,” I admit.
Brushing his lips to mine in a soft kiss, he whispers, “You’re not foolish for wanting me. I fucking love that you wanted me so much you spiraled.”
I swat his arm.
He grins some more. “Yes, Firecracker. Put all that energy into sitting on my face. Now.”
He tugs off my shorts, yanks off my panties, and shifts me over on the bed, making room. After he flops down, he positions me so I’m straddling his shoulders. “I want to taste how horny you are. I want to see how worked up you are. Give me that sweet pussy now.”
I give in, sinking down onto his eager mouth. The sounds we both make should be illegal. His groan is craven. Mine is desperate.
I press my hands against the wall, and I don’t waste time. I rock against his mouth, his tongue, his scruff. I seek just the right angle, the right friction.
He laps me up, his tongue licking a hungry line up and down, his lips clamping on my swollen clit, his mouth devouring me.
