Page 117 of Finding Storm

I lick the shell of her ear, making her groan. “Good.” I grip the elastic with my hands at one side and snap it. I do the same with the other side, and the fabric is gone. Tossed aside and forgotten.

I cover her pussy with my hand.

Her head falls back against my shoulder, her pussy bearing down on my hand, needing the contact.

“Storm …” she moans.

“I’ve got you, babe. I’ll take care of you.”

She’s hot and wet and everything I’ve ever wanted.

I slide a finger inside her.

She’s so fucking tight.

I pull my finger out and put it in my mouth, sucking her off my skin, needing to taste her.

Her head is turned to mine, eyes wide and on my mouth.

I grin.

My hand goes back to her pussy, and I slide my finger between her soaked folds.

I bring it back to her mouth.

“Taste yourself.” I run my finger over her lips, coating her mouth.

Her tongue darts out and licks her juice from her lips.

“You taste so fucking good,” I tell her right before I cover her mouth with mine and plunge my finger back inside her pussy, fucking her with it.

God. The feel of her body pressed up against mine. The sweet scent of her perfume. The hint of crisp apple that I can smell in her hair.

The way she tastes … like pure sex.

Her skin.

Her mouth.

Her.

She’s everything.

I feel drunk off her. And it’s not just her body. It’s her mind. Her smart mouth. Her zero tolerance for my bullshit.

She’s a fucking queen.

And I adore her.

Pushing up her shirt, I pull down the cup of her bra and roll her nipple between my finger.

She’s panting and groaning, her hips moving restlessly against my hand.

I add another finger, sliding it inside her, widening her up.

“God, Storm,” she groans. Her head turning into my neck, she starts kissing me there.

“That’s it, baby.” I tug on her nipple, increasing the pace of my hand, speeding up, letting the heel of my palm press against her clit with each return back into her pussy I make.