Page 23 of Fake Crown

He groans. “I’m going to last about five seconds.”

“Please let it be ten,” I say, and I raise my other hand with fingers crossed.

He chuckles, and then he reaches around to undo the rest of my dress. He gives it a gentle push, and it falls off my shoulders to a heap on the floor.

For a beat, his humor fades as he brushes aside strands of my hair that have fallen across my cheeks. Then he’s kissing me again, and I bend into him. My bra hits the floor, and my panties follow in short order. I stick my hands in the back of his boxer briefs to grip his ass, and then I tug down the fabric.

His hand slips between my legs, and when he skims my folds, he groans. “You’re so wet.”

“Just for you.” I’m breathless. Not a lie. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this turned on by so little contact.

He eases me back on the bed, and he trails kisses down my body until he reaches my core. There, he parts my legs, and he flicks his tongue across my clit. I grip the sheets and tilt my hips.

“More,” I gasp.

He grips my thighs while his tongue works magic on my most sensitive parts. So many guys fumble in uncertainty when faced with female pleasure, but Brent seems to be enjoying himself as much as I am. Such a turn on.

“You taste so good,” he mutters.

I dig my fingers into his hair. “Protection?” There’s some in my bag, but I didn’t think to get it out earlier. The urge to feel him inside me is more than I can take.

He backs off me and opens the nightstand drawer to remove a foil package. He’s more prepared than me. I take it from him, and then I grip his shaft. Before putting on the condom, I give him a few leisurely strokes, and then I lean forward to tease the tip with my tongue. A taste. A taunt.

He sucks in a sharp breath, and I can’t resist. I ease him completely into my mouth, and his hands slide into my hair.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “God, Posey.”

Hearing my name said with such guttural need ratchets up my own desire. It’s not going to take much for me to hit all the high notes today.

I draw away from him, and I tear open the condom. As I roll it down, greedy for him, he tips my chin, so we make eye contact.

“How do you want it?” His voice is hoarse.

“From behind. Hand on my clit.”

“I like a woman that knows what she likes.” He flips me over, and he traces the line of my spine with his palm. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

When he enters me, we both let out low moans of pleasure. He reaches around, and his fingers find my clit. The pace he sets is slow and steady. I’m both dying for him to go a little faster and enjoying the climb. Each thrust of his pelvis and swirl of his fingers inches me closer.

With one hand, I grip the sheets, and with the other, I squeeze his hand on my hip. “I’m so close.”

“How close?” Brent asks, and the raw desire in his voice makes me think he might be barely holding on too.

“A little faster,” I gasp. My body is strung tight.

He picks up the pace, and I cry out with the force of my orgasm. While I soak in the waves of our spent sexual tension, Brent follows me over the cliff.

“Wow,” he mutters against my neck.

I let out an unsteady laugh. “It’s a good word.”

“I didn’t misread that did I? You’re good?” He kisses my neck.

“Didn’t misread a thing. I am sooo good.” I glance at him over my shoulder while he withdraws, and then I collapse into the bedding. “Full dismount achieved.”

Brent disappears into the bathroom. When he comes out, he hesitates for only a minute before climbing into my bed.

“You can kick me out whenever you want,” he says, and he slides his hand across my waist.