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His fingers quest under my skirt, inside my panties, parting my seam, stroking my clit. Fire spills inside me.
“Please,” I whisper, lost, “please.”
He growls in reply, a deep and low sound that I feel everywhere, a vibration that flows through his body into mine. I arch helplessly against him as he licks one nipple, then the other,
over the flimsy material of my bra, then lower, down my belly. Every stroke of his rough tongue ignites small fiery bursts deep inside me.
He tugs my panties down and lifts a brow, a grin pulling at his wide mouth. It transfixes me. So open and bright, it makes all the grins and smiles of the past seem like pale imitations, fake masks.
Then he buries his face between my legs and the world explodes, sparkling away. His tongue does wicked things to me, licking along my seam, flicking over my aching clit, stabbing into me until my hips are coming off the mattress and my hands are clutching handfuls of his quilt. He has me moaning and panting, his hands holding my hips down as he takes his time torturing me, teasing me, making me lose my mind.
God. Feels so good. Never had a guy do this to me before. Never, and this is Ocean, holy crap, it’s him, his broad shoulders towering over my legs, his crazy blue hair shining. The boy I’ve been fantasizing about, the boy I thought didn’t want me, the hottest tattoo artist of Damage Control.
Hottest boy ever. And I… My breath hitches. The pleasure is burning me from the inside out, pulsing in my core. I won’t last, I can feel the pressure coiling tighter in my belly, a ball of painful need.
His tongue circles my clit, an eddy of mounting urgency. His stubble scratches the insides of my thighs, a dark counterpoint, and my pussy clenches so hard I cry out.
The wave breaks, and the tide rolls through me, taking me under. Pleasure bursts inside my core and spreads, filling me up.
Oh God… My head flops back on the bed as I pant, my lungs too small, my pulse fluttering, trapped in my throat. My body’s limp and warm and pliant, all tension gone.
He lifts his tousled head, eyes gleaming, and licks his lips. “Fucking sweet.” He watches me through heavy-lidded eyes. “Think I got a sugar rush.”
I snicker, a glow of a different kind of pleasure spreading through me. “Bullcrap.”
“Wanna taste yourself?”
I’m not sure I do—never have—but he crawls up over me and leans in, and we kiss. My hands slide up his strong shoulders to tangle in his hair. I taste myself on his tongue and lips—salty, sweet, musky.
Weird. But not off-putting, and he obviously liked it.
His cock is thick against my thigh, long and heavy like an iron bar. I lift my hips a little as our tongues twine, pressing up against his hard-on, and he groans, a sound of pure need.
I want him naked, bared to me. In every way. I cup his hard jaw and pull back, his mouth releasing mine reluctantly with a soft pop.
He’s breathless. His eyes are super dark with desire, the blue swallowed by the pupil. He starts to sit up, and I follow him until we’re face-to-face again.
His T-shirt is stretched deliciously across that ripped chest, across his abs, showing off every ridge and hollow. His gaze dips from my face to my boobs, and I look down, too, belatedly remembering I’m naked from the waist up.
Oops.
“Pretty,” he says, and as if in reply, my nipples perk up again.
Come on, nipples. Never had a cute guy chat you up before?
Guess not.
“Now yours,” I say, my voice gone husky and low. How didn’t I see this one coming in the cards?
“Mine what?”
His eyes finally lift back to my face, a bewildered expression in them that makes me want to laugh hysterically. “Your man-boobs. I want to see them, too.”
“My man-boobs.” His voice cracks into a snort. “Seriously?”
“Never been more serious in my life. You’ve seen me naked. My turn.”
He nods solemnly, grabs the hem of his T-shirt. “Since I’ve already seen your muffins, I guess it’s only fair to let you see my man-boobs, and my mighty snake.”
