Page 21 of The Trouble with Flings

My heart squeezes unexpectedly. As much as I own my sexuality, I’ve always worried I’m a little too tough to be seen as overly feminine. He drags the tip of his nose along the curve of my breast. “You still smell the same,” he whispers. “As sweet as the air after a summer rain.”

I swallow hard at the way that tugs at the tenderest parts of me. How had I forgotten this side of him? When he’s not domineering or charming but genuinely sweet. I tell myself it’s a line. He probably says things like that all the time to women. He slicks his tongue over my nipple, stealing my attention. I close my eyes, burying my hands in his hair.

“Fitz,” I plead.

“You want my teeth on this pretty little nipple?” He teases the taut peak with his tongue.

“I want everything,” I say.

“Then open your eyes.” When I do, he says, “That’s my girl,” and grazes his teeth over that sensitive peak. I moan, holding his mouth to my breast as he does it again and again. When he sucks my nipple hard, I cry out, bowing off the mattress. I barely catch my breath when he does it again. The pleasure is excruciating, and I dig my fingernails into his scalp.

“I fucking love those nails,” he grits out. He continues his tantalizing assault until I’m writhing and moaning. He scrapes his teeth over my other nipple, harder than the first, sending bolts of lightning searing down my core. My hips buck, needy sounds shooting from my lips.

“So fucking sexy. Let me hear it all. Every moan, every plea, every whimper,” he demands as he drives me out of my freaking mind.

When he pinches one nipple as he sucks the other, “Fitz—” flies from my lungs, pleasure slicing through me.

He doesn’t stop there. He tastes every inch of my body, teasing and licking, sucking and biting, making my head spin with pleasure and my heart sing with his praises and demands.

“You’re beautiful…Let me hear it again…Say my name…Good girl…So damn perfect…You’re remarkable, baby.” I chase that praise and the gifts of pleasure that follow like I need them to breathe.

He grips my hips, holding them still as his mouth wreaks havoc with my senses, lavishing me with open-mouthed kisses just above my sex. The force of his hands and the sensuality of his tongue sliding over my heated flesh have me on the verge of coming. But he’s intent on making me crazy, coming so close to where I need him most, I can feel his breath there, but he won’t give it to me.

“I’ve been dying to get my mouth on you again,” he hisses. His words send a shiver of heat through me. He presses his big hands to my inner thighs, spreading me wide, and a wicked grin curves his lips. Those piercing eyes flick from my sex to my face, holding my gaze. “Good girl, watching me.”

The waiting is killing me. “Then be a good boy, and give me what I want.” I try to say it demandingly, but it comes out breathless.

A low laugh rumbles out of that magnificent mouth, and he says, “Hold on tight, wild girl, because I’m about to set your pussy on fire.” He lowers his mouth, but his eyes bore into mine as a barely there slick of his tongue sends my hips jerking off the mattress. He looks diabolically pleased with himself. “Sweeter than nectar.”

“Stop talking and—” My voice is lost to the feel of him devouring me.

I writhe and moan, digging my heels into the mattress as he does incredible things with his teeth and tongue, making the most gratified noises, which are as potent as his mouth. My body is trembling, every muscle strung too tight. When his hands join in, one on my breast, the other between my legs, pleasure fires from every nerve ending. I claw at the sheets, my ability to speak or think completely shattered. He quickens his efforts, fucking me faster with his fingers, using his mouth on my most sensitive nerves, and pinching my nipple, sending pleasure crashing over me. “Fitz—”

The world tilts on its axis, and he stays with me, keeping me at the peak so long, I’m pretty sure I’ve died and found some kind of erotic heaven. When he finally relents and I start floating down from the high, he begins teasing me again. His every touch sends sharp pangs of pleasure through me, until I’m lost to it again.

This time as I come down from the peak, he kisses his way up my body, and then that merciless mouth is on mine. I tug at his shirt, panting out, “I need you,” but this infuriatingly sexy man will not rush. He kisses me again, slower and deeper than before, and I feel it all the way down to my toes. He works me into a frenzy of need, rubbing myself against him, clawing at his shoulders.

Only then does he whisper, “Don’t move,” and steps from the bed.

He watches me watching him undress. He’s a sight to behold, all sculpted muscles, a dusting of chest hair, and that long, thick cock that absolutely rocked my world last time. He strokes his cock, his eyes locked on me. I’m ridiculously jealous of his hand.

The glint in his eyes tells me that was his intent.

He withdraws a condom from his wallet and sheaths his length. My heart races as he comes down over me, his cock pressing against my entrance, and whispers, “Still with me, wild girl?” The edge that had been in his voice all night is softer now, warmer.

“Yeah,” I say softly.

He brushes his nose along my cheek. “Still want this?”

My heart stumbles at the way he asks, like he’s fully present, making sure I slow down enough to ask myself the same question. Why does that make this moment feel so much bigger? Holding him a little tighter, I nod. “Yes.”

“Thank God,” he says with a boyish grin that makes me laugh. “I love your laugh. I want to hear it a lot this week.”

His words wrap around me as our mouths come together. He thrusts, slowly and purposefully, sending waves of pleasure washing over me as my body stretches to welcome him.

When he’s buried deep, he stills, his head dipping beside mine. “Jesus, Jennifer.”

The intensity in his voice and the pleasure pulsing through my core are almost too much to bear. When our eyes meet, the depth of emotions in his make my emotions whirl. Caught between wanting to memorize the feel of him, wanting to escape the emotions clawing at me, and not wanting to miss a second of our connection, I say, “Kiss me,” and pull his mouth to mine.