She’s greedy for me, and although I want to go slow and relish her, I want more. I want her to shout so loud that security checks on us. I want the whole of Monaco to hear this woman come against my mouth.
I lap at her cunt and press a finger inside her. She bucks against me, but I don’t stop. My palm presses her thigh to keep her still and open to me.
Her whole body shakes as I pump one, then two, fingers into her. She’s writhing against the cotton sheets, her orgasm climbing as she moans in desperation.
CHAPTER 52
Rosie
Niki Coulter owns my body with every stroke of his tongue and twist of his fingers. I can’t keep a thought in my head except that I want all of this. His palm’s heavy against my thigh, pressing me open.
His tongue and fingers possess my body like he’s possessing my heart. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s starving, because as he sucks and licks, I’m like the meal he’s waited a lifetime for.
His buzz cut is rough against my fingers. I eat up every sensation and profess this man is mine.
“Please let me come, I’m so close,” I say as if he’s stopping me. He sinks his fingers into me and bites my clit, and suddenly, I’m not just seeing stars. I’m drowning beneath galaxies.
“Yes,” I say with a strangled sound as I press myself against his mouth before pulling away. Every sense heightens. I smell his woody scent, sanitiser, and the wine he drank. And all of it is him.
As my breath leaves me, I drag in more air.
I squint. He fucked my ability to focus out of me. For asecond, everything is blurry, but then his shining face comes into view. He kisses me hard, and I taste my tangy scent.
I let out a satisfied sigh as his fingers thread through mine.
His body rumbles as he leans between my thighs and presses kisses to my heaving chest.
“You were perfect,” he murmurs between caresses of my skin.
I pant, still dragging in air. “I want more.”
He looks up at me. One eyebrow quirks, but his cheeky smile tells me this is just beginning. “More?”
“I want to look at you. I want you inside me.”
“Do you want my dick?”
“Yes please, sir.”
He pulls away. “You don’t have to say that.”
I lick my lips and taste myself again. “I want to. I want you to fuck me, sir.”
His slow swallow gives me the power I always get from using that name.
“Then undress me.”
I take my time, distracted by his lips, which continue to press against my neck and chest and anywhere he can reach. I fumble and struggle, but eventually I stroke my hands across his bare muscled chest. The temptation to scratch my nails down it is impossible to resist.
He hisses into my mouth. “Your punishment for the nails is that you don’t get to undress the rest of me.”
Corded muscles travel up his arms as he flexes them. He kneels above me and yanks out his belt, cracking it.
At the jangle of the buckle, I press my fingers against my clit. They slide through the wetness.
He pulls them to his mouth. “I didn’t say you could touch yourself.”
He sucks them hard, and it’s like his tongue is against my thighs again.
