Perfect for me.
I find the zipper at her back and drag the tab down, aided by her shameless arching. The dress falls away, unmasking the black lace lingerie that I’d bought after destroying her last pair. My hands claim her waist, and I dig my thumbs into bone and soft skin, addicted to the feel of her.
“Please.”
She’s begging. Not for mercy. For me.
I kill the thought, determined to stay in this moment with just her and pretend nothing outside of this bed exists.
But when I slide my mouth between those perfect breasts, tasting salt and sweat and her, and she bends into me and claws at my back, I can no longer even remember my original plan.
I trail kisses down her stomach with fiery lips, and her muscles jump under each graze. I hook my fingers in her underwear and peel them off, exposing her inch by inch. Just as greedy as I am, she kicks them away.
Pushing her thighs open, I bury my face, my tongue hunting her flavor and devouring her in a way that leaves no doubt about who she belongs to.
Her back bows off the bed as an unfiltered cry breaks from her lips. She tries to trap me with her thighs while I continue tormenting her with my lips, tongue, and teeth.
This isn’t like the safe house, and I’m not using a trick or torture tactic.
This is pure need. I just wanther.
I crave every moan, every twitch, every instant she loses herself.
Her hands fist in my hair, yanking viciously enough to hurt. I drink in her body, watching her come apart.
All her walls have collapsed, leaving me free to do exactly what I want.
And I want to do everything.
I slide two fingers inside her, curling and stroking until she jumps straight to her release.
Satisfaction swamps me as she screams before clamping down hard. Ripples of pleasure rack her whole body. I push her through every aftershock, not easing up until she’s limp and breathing raggedly.
Listening to her crumble is one of the most erotic things I’ve ever heard.
I think I could die happy here, between her legs, bringing her over the edge for the rest of our lives.
I’m not sure how to deal with the weight of this foreign sensation of crushing need.
I lift my head and wipe my mouth. Her eyes fight to focus as she looks at me with blown pupils, like she’s never seen me before.
Maybe she hasn’t. Maybe neither of us has.
I’ll worry about that later.
Right now, I have better things to do.
I crawl up her still trembling body, my mouth painting her with kisses, rib to collarbone, throat to lips. Her hands drag me up for a lust-flavored kiss, and her moans against my lips shoot tingles down my spine.
I flip her over until she’s face down on the mattress. “Again.”
Jordan glances over her shoulder with wide eyes as my palm glides up her back. I bend low, my lips brushing against her ear. “Tell me to stop.”
It’s a challenge I expect her to meet.
“Don’t you dare.” She pushes back, pure fire in her eyes as she stares me down from over her shoulder.
My dick throbs.That’s my girl.
