I reach up and wrap a hand around his forearm, gathering the courage to step away from him and pull out of this grip he has on me, physically. Emotionally I don’t know if I’ll ever break free. I’ve spent what feels like half my lifetime enamored with Tate Garrison. “Don’t you have regrets? After that first time.”
“Yeah,” he admits after a long moment of just staring at each other. “My biggest regret though, the one that keeps me up some nights, is not going further with you. Taking everything I wanted.”
Once again my breath catches in my throat, like the air has been sucked from the room and I can’t expand my lungs. It doesn’t get easier as he tilts his head and his lips brush mine. “I lay awake sometimes and think about how you tasted on my fingers and how badly I want that taste on my tongue.”
My lips find his. I have no resistance left. No rational thought. Only selfish needs and wants. IwantTate. Ineedhim to touch me. Right or wrong I’ve needed it for years so I kiss him and he kisses me back. Long and hard. And the deeper the kiss gets the more we start pawing at each other.
Tate is twisting his fingers in my hair with one hand and cupping my ass with the other. I’m basically doing the same with my hands. He feels so good against me, so I lift my leg and wrap it around his hip. He ruts himself between my legs with a growl, like we’re cave people, just figuring out what nature intended.
I feel that primal. I am radiating with a desire to touch him, be touched by him. I let my hand slide down his back and under the waistband of his sweats. His ass is round, hard, and bare as I palm it. He isn't wearing underwear. He pulls back, my leg falls to the floor, and he yanks me to him. He pauses, cupping my cheek. "I'm sorry. I know I have to be gentle because of your ribs. It's just… I'm usually not."
He wraps his arms around my back and kisses me again, walking us both over to the living room couch. He gently pushes me down onto it and lowers himself on top of me. We kiss and grind and let our fingers roam. My dress is being hiked up by his left hand as it slides up my outer thigh. “I love you in dresses. I remember my hands under the last dress I saw you in.”
“I think about that a lot too,” I confess as I shove his sweats lower, over his ass, and down his thighs. “I think about it every time I touch myself.”
I am going to blush profusely when I look back on the fact I said that out loud, but right now the only thing heating my blood is lust. Tate has my dress bunched up at my hips and his fingers are skirting my panties. “Before you ask, don’t stop.”
I feel his lips, against mine, parting in a triumphant smile. "Tell me I can lick your pussy." Oh God. This may not be dirty speak for some women, but for me, it's downright lewd. I have never talked with a sexual partner like this, so boldly, so blunt. So hot. “Tell me to put my mouth on you.”
“Do it.”
“Mallory. Say the words.”
I heave in my breaths like an Olympic runner at the end of a marathon. Heavy, hard breaths. I close my eyes and move my hands from his bare ass, over the tight muscles in his back, up into his hair. I feel his fingers slip between my folds and he sighs like he’s content. Like he’s at peace. Like he’s home. “Tate. Put your mouth on me. Lick my pussy, I am begging you.”
"You don't have to beg." He kisses me roughly and then slides down my body, one hand pulling my underwear lower and lower down my legs. When he slips them off one ankle, he shoves one of my legs off the couch and throws the other over his shoulder, and with one last heated look on my face, he dips down between my legs, and all I feel is the confident swipe of his tongue across my sex. I arch my back and whimper. "How do you taste even better than the first time?"
I don't answer with words. Instead, my hips twist and my butt lifts and I'm essentially fucking his face. I'm not even trying to be timid about it, I keep rocking into him and he meets me with his warm, wet talented tongue every time. Inching me closer to a black abyss of white-hot pleasure. He keeps licking, exploring, tasting and the inching is more like shoving now. Every time that tongue dances over my clit I stumble closer to that prize.
“Tate, I’m going to…”
“Come all over me baby girl. Don’t hold back. Use me.”
I fist his hair in my hands and swallow my moan because Dylan can't hear this, and if I let go, the way I want to, not only will Dylan hear me, the entire state of California will. He crawls up my body, kissing my knee, my thigh, my hip, my forearm, my collarbone, my neck. And I get more and more lucid with every touch. More and more aware that I not only need to, I want to, return the feeling he just flooded me with. I reach down and wrap my hand around his hard cock as soon as he’s got his lips on my neck. “Mal, you don’t?—”
“Tell me you don’t want me to suck your cock.”
He blinks and flashes me a grin. "I will not be saying that. Ever."
“Then lie back and enjoy yourself.” I slide lower down his body, between his legs, as he takes my place on the couch. Without giving myself time to freak out I press my lips to his leaking tip and slide him into my mouth.
My pace is slow, and kind of tentative at first. I'm not shy or unsure of myself, I'm just taking a minute to enjoy the moment. How his cock makes my mouth feel overwhelmingly full. The salty, thick taste of his pre-cum. How he whispers curses at the ceiling and tangles his fingers in my hair. "You are killing me."
“Mmm…” I hum against his shaft and he quakes. And then his fingers twist as I move at a faster, steadier pace and he punches his hips, softly at first and then harder and faster and he is fucking my wet waiting mouth with abandon.
And then his pace stumbles. “I’m going to shoot.”
I grab his hips, holding on, pressing my fingers into his skin, letting him know I’m not letting go. He grunts out each syllable of my name. “Mal-lor-y.”
And then he curses again and I feel a quick pulse of come explode into my mouth followed by another and another and… I almost choke there’s so much, but I manage to swallow before that happens. I don’t have time to wipe my mouth or do anything because he’s hauling me up and pulling me into him and pressing breathy kisses to the shell of my ear. “See? Fun rules. We’re really good at this… together.”
“We make a pretty good team.” I smile and as he pushes his fingers through my messy hair I nuzzle his neck and drift off on the spicy scent that is all Tate.
Chapter15
Mallory
Iwake up to find myself alone on the couch in the living room. The house is silent. The sun is low in the sky and when I grab my phone off an end table I realize it’s almost dinner time. How come Dylan hasn’t woken up? Where is Tate? Oh, and also, what the hell did I just do?
