“You’re not the only one capable of saying exactly what you think.” His glittering eyes held her desire-drugged gaze in a seductive grip. “I can be a blunt instrument too.”
As if to prove his point, he rubbed the edge of his thumb between her swollen folds, quickly finding and pressing on the part of her that screamed the loudest for stimulation.
“That’s it.” His breath was warm and sweet against her mouth as he bent to flick his tongue across the seam of her lips. “Now relax and let me finish what I started.”
She’d lost the power of speech again. The most she could manage was a soft, mewling whimper when he slipped a finger inside her—just a shallow foray to test her readiness—before he retook her mouth in a kiss that was as deep as it was thorough.
He added a second finger to the first and her walls clamped around his intrusion. Not because her body tried to evict him. Because it tried to keep him in. Tried to hold him still as her inner muscles fluttered around him, seeking the satisfaction those wonderfully talented hands had been promising all along.
He groaned against her mouth, “You’re so fucking wet, Grace. So damn soft. Like damp silk.”
All she could do was hum her pleasure and wiggle her hips in invitation.
He answered by setting up a rhythm that he matched with his tongue. In and out. Long, slow, delicious strokes that were firm without being harsh. Determined without being demanding.
He fucked her with his fingers. Filled her. Over and over. Again and again until whatever logical, reasoning part of her mind that had remained melted away.
She became sensation. Mindless, heedless, wantonflesh.
Setting up a counter-motion with her hips, she met him stroke for stroke. Coaxed him faster. Harder.Deeper.Until the tension at her core became a mind-melting pressure.
Just when she thought she couldn’t take it a second longer, orgasm burst through her as hard and as fast as a bullet fired from a rifle. It snapped her back clean off the bed. And had her thighs clamping tight around his marauding hand.
“Thatta girl,” she thought she heard him say. Although she couldn’t be sure of his words because the blood rushing between her ears was an incessant, rhythmic roar.
She had no idea how long she stayed there in that wonderful abyss of orgasm. It could’ve been seconds or minutes. Time had no meaning when it came to ecstasy.
Eventually, she began to drift down from the heights of release. Feeling the mattress beneath her back. Smelling the warm coconut scent of the massage oil as it mixed with the earthier aroma of sex. Hearing Hunter’s ragged breathing as he stood above her.
She was boneless, breathless, nearlybrainlessfrom release. So it took an immense amount of excursion to crack open her eyes. She was glad she made the effort because…
Dear lord!
He’d shoved the fingers he’d just had inside her body into his mouth. She watched his nostrils flare at the smell of her. Saw his eyelids lower in ecstasy when he tasted her. Heard his deep groan of unsatiated lust as he licked his fingers clean of her desire.
Sex.That’s what Hunter was as he stood there with his bare chest heaving. With his partially undone jeans riding low around his trim hips. With his raging erection peeking above the waistband of his boxer briefs.
He was the embodiment of sex, and she was overcome with the urge to give him the kind of pleasure that would make his eyes cross and his toes curl. Make him feel so good he forgot his own name even as he screamed hers.
Her loose muscles made her motions slow and lethargic. Even so, it was only a handful of seconds before she had his jeans unzipped the rest of the way and shoved down to his knees.
“Wow.”
The word popped out of her mouth before she realized her vocal cords were working again. And then she grimaced when it occurred to her that “wow” was an asinine thing to say in a moment like that.
But seriously,the little voice that lived in the back of her head reiterated,wow.
Hunter was long and thick, heavily veined, his plump head shiny. His testicles were large and round and pulled up tight against the base of his shaft.
She had never been one to request a dick pic. It seemed lewd and puerile. But she wouldn’t say no if he ever asked to send her one. Because…gaht dayum, the man was hung.
If there was such a thing as a Hall of Fame for Cocks, his would be in a place of pride. With a big sign that said,“Perfect specimen pictured here.”
She grabbed the bottle of massage oil from the bedside table and tipped it so that one lone dollop of clear, slick fluid dripped from the opening. The instant it hit his swollen head, his cock jerked so hard it went nearly vertical. She watched, fascinated, as his stomach muscles accordioned.
“Fuuuccckkk me,” he hissed when she used her palm and fingers to spread the oil all down his throbbing shaft.
“I told you that’s the plan.” She chuckled, even as she luxuriated in the feel of him.
