Page 110 of Whispered Promises

“I don’t think feral is the right word. But consumed to the point I can’t think or feel anything but her? Yes.”

“Oh.” It comes out less of a word and more of a long exhale.

“Was that not the answer you wanted?”

“No,” I rush to explain. “It’s not that. I was trying to picture what it would be like to see you like that. I have an active imagination, and it can be annoying sometimes.”

“I think about you all day, every day. There isn’t a moment when you’re not on my mind, Rosy. I’m consumed just by the thought of you.”

How does he manage to make such effortless, bold statements like that? I squirm, rubbing my thighs together because I’m starting to ache.

“And if it was more than thoughts? If I were with you right now?” I boldly ask, hoping he can’t hear how starved of oxygen I feel.

“Then I would tug your body up mine, slowly, so I could feel the weight of your breasts against me, before sucking one into my mouth. The heavy softness would have me groaning around it.”

“And then?” I don’t try to hold back the needy impatience. I need him to continue.

“I’d take my time, taking each one into my mouth, sucking and pulling until you ache.”

Mission accomplished. They are already so sensitive. I slip my fingers beneath my shirt and slide them up my stomach to my breasts, massaging and tugging at my nipple.

I don’t need to prompt him this time. “Then I’d slide you up further, feel your arousal coating my chest before your knees come to rest on either side of my head. That pretty, glistening part of you hovering over my mouth…”

“And then?” My hand follows his words as his focus moves down my body. My lower muscles clench in anticipation as I spread my lower lips for him.

“My hands would trail up and down the backs of your thighs, gripping, squeezing your cheeks, then pulling them apart, letting you feel me get so close to where you need me. I’d watch as you get wetter, so close to dripping on my face, before I’d tug you down and trace my tongue around that slick hole.”

Holy shit.

The moan slips free. I’m too far gone to hold it back.

“Where’s your imagination taking you?” Noah asks.

“I’m picturing everything.”

“Are you as wet as I’m imagining?”

I can’t tell if the heat in my cheeks is from embarrassment or from how turned on I am. I don’t know how I didn’t think he’d make a great dirty talker, but perhaps his profession has its perks, and he just has a way with words.

It’s making me reevaluate all the bad boy book boyfriends I’ve obsessed over.

“Yes, it’s…everywhere,” I whisper, my fingers slipping around my opening.

It feels different from if I were doing this by myself, even with an audiobook or my e-reader to assist my imagination. There’s something more heated, sensual about having him whisper in my ear how he would position me and what he’d do.

His low groan has my hips tilting, picturing it against my clit as I sit on his face.

“Tell me,” I beg, desperate to find out what more he wants from me.

“I’d grind you into my face. Suffocating me with the feel of you, the perfect taste of you. Coating my tongue in your arousal, I’d flick it against your clit, circling and pressing against the needy part of you. Watching your breasts bounce as you lose yourself.”

We’re both panting now, although mine sounds harsher than his. My fingers slide into my entrance and rub my clit. My hips thrust, seeking more than I can give myself.

“You’d rock faster, your cute little moans filling the space around us. My hands would dig into your cheeks as I spread them for more access, drinking down your wetness before I go back to your clit. Do you need my tongue flat or pointed to get you there?”

“Pointed,” I mewl, my finger strumming in quick motions as I circle around the bundle of nerves. Everything’s starting to feel fuzzy, the room around me fading. The only thing that’s real is the sound of his voice in my ear.

“I’m so close.”