He was right. Fire burned.
She was absolutelybrandedby the warmth of the hands he’d brought up to frame her face. Seared by the heat of his big body pressed so dominatingly against her own. Scorched by the flick of his hot tongue as he greedily set about mapping her mouth.
18
What the fuck are you doing?
The question screamed through Sam’s brain even as he pressed his body tight against Hannah’s.
He reveled in the way she went up on tiptoe to meet him lick for lick, suck for suck. The way her fingers dug into his hair, her nails pricking deliciously against his scalp. The way she arched against him as if the minuscule amount of space left between their bodies was too much and she wanted more, more,more.
More of his passion. More of his lust. More ofhim.
Allof him.
This is Hurricane Hannah!he tried to remind himself.What the fuck are you doing?
Hurricane Hannah. The nickname held a whole new meaning.
She wasn’t some pillow princess happy to sit back and be ravaged. She was a hot-blooded storm of a woman who gave pleasure with as much fervor as she received it.
He was swept up. Blown away. His senses so consumed by her that even though he knew there was a reason he shouldn’t be doing what he was doing, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was.
When her tongue dipped into his mouth, he caught it and sucked it greedily. Showing her exactly what he planned to do with other parts of her body. With her fingers. With her nipples. With that sweet, hidden bundle of nerves at the top of her sex.
Ripping her mouth free, she rasped his name. And what she did next shocked the ever-lovin’ shit out of him.
She pressed her warm, damp lips to the scar on his neck. Then she flicked out her little tongue to trace the length of his puckered flesh.
His heart flipped. His stomach cramped. His knees nearly buckled.
“Hannah.” Her name was dragged from the back of his throat.
“Just let me…” She didn’t finish, simply pulled him harder against her and continued to map his scar with her greedy little mouth.
“Fuck,” he groaned, having to curl his hands into fists to keep from pulling down her borrowed joggers, opening up his fly, and taking her right there against the dirty brick wall inside the dank, dingy tunnel.
“I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you leaning against the gates outside,” she whispered against his throat, still following the line of his scar with her hot, talented tongue. “How’d you get it?”
“I can use my mouth in one of two ways.” He tucked a tendril of purple hair behind the little shell of her ear, lingering briefly with her earlobe caught between his thumb and forefinger.Soft.Like the rest of her. “To answer your question or to leave a string of kisses from your lips down to your throat and then…lower.” He palmed the sides of her face so his next words were breathed against her lips. “You decide.”
“The latter.”
The immediacy of her answer made him chuckle. “I hoped you’d say that,” he rasped before reclaiming her mouth.
The way she moaned when he dipped his tongue into the honeyed interior, once, twice, three times?
Fuck me, it’s the song of a siren.
Nothing could have stopped him from doing his damnedest to consume her then. Starting with the sweet pillow of her earlobe, moving to the soft skin below her ear, and ending with the delicate flesh that fluttered over her pulse point.
The taste of her tingled on his tongue. And the feel of her body moving against him in that sinuous, sinful motion that was as old as time had every rational thought falling out of his head.
He was acting on instinct when he yanked his phone from his hip pocket and dropped it to the cement floor. It shined up and spotlighted the two of them as he hooked his hands behind her knees. It was animal impulse that had him wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing her back against the brick wall. And it was the most feral form of lust he’d ever known that made him grind his turgid cock into the soft fabric that covered her warm, waiting folds.
The heat of her, the wonderful, humidheatof her seeped through the joggers and the denim of his jeans to tease his dick with hints of what was to come. Hints of soft, hot, slippery flesh that would bathe him in her deliciously sweet juices.
He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he grew harder. So hard he considered it a wonder he didn’t split his own skin. And then, to his surprise, she softened. Just went languid and loose in his arms.
