Page 16

"Mine."

Again.

You laughed, called me a fucking menace but made this impatient little sound when I dropped to my knees that went straight through me.

Fuck, sweetheart.

I'd wanted to taste you for so long that the first swipe of my tongue almost short-circuited my fucking brain.

I'd imagined your pussy more times than I could count, stood six feet away while you touched yourself and nearly lost my mind wishing it was my mouth making you come, then spent night after night wondering what you would taste like.

Every fantasy was fucking useless.

You tasted so much fucking better.

Warm and wet against my tongue, already slick because apparently being chased through a dark maze by your stalker had done exactly what I'd hoped it would, and the realization made me want to bury my face between your thighs and stay there until neither of us remembered there was an entire Halloween event happening outside.

I grabbed your thighs hard enough to keep you exactly where I wanted you and ate your pussy like I'd been fucking starving for it, because I had. Every little hitch in your breathing told me when I'd found something you liked, your fingers tightened in my hair and your hips started rolling toward my mouth until you were practically fucking yourself against my tongue.

Christ, I loved that.

No embarrassment and no trying to make yourself smaller. You wanted more, so your body fucking took more.

The first orgasm ripped through you hard enough that your knees buckled and I had to pin you against the door with my hands while you shook above me. You were still swearing when I went straight back to licking on your clit.

That earned me a louder curse.

Good.

I wanted you trembling and cursing me while I kept licking you because you'd spent far too long thinking pleasure was something you needed to be quiet about.

By the time the second orgasm hit, your legs had almost stopped working completely. I caught you before you could slide down the door, stood you upright and kissed you while you were still shaking, and the moan that came out of you when you tasted yourself on my mouth was so filthy my cock fucking twitched.

Then your hand dropped between us and squeezed me through my pants.

Sweetheart.

I nearly fucking came in my pants like a schoolboy.

I wish I were exaggerating.

Months of stalking you, stealing your underwear and imagining every obscene thing I wanted to do with your body, and one squeeze of your hand around my cock through my fucking clothes almost had me blowing my load before I'd even gotten inside you.

You could obviously tell what you had done to me. That smug little gleam in your eyes was impossible to miss.

I caught your wrist before you could squeeze me again because apparently I do possess some survival instinct, then kissed you again hard enough to wipe the smile off your mouth for approximately half a second.

Then I spun you around. I didn't need another reminder of what you wanted, I fucking remembered, every word.

I slid my hand up and took a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back just enough to make you gasp before I used that grip to walk you the few steps to the workbench.

Then I bent you over it.

Fuck.

Just fucking look at what you've done to me.

I'd imagined that exact sight enough times to qualify as mentally unwell, but having you actually bent over in front of me with that velvet dress shoved up and bare ass and pussy on display for me was so much better that I almost resented every fantasy I had for wasting my fucking time.