Edge of Midnight (McClouds & Friends #4)(111)

She couldn’t speak, or breathe, or do anything but watch. Her arm trembled at the strain of supporting her body while her other hand held the gusset of her panties aside so that he could have at her with his skillful, ravenous tongue.

He gripped her hips while his tongue lashed and thrust into her juicy folds, swirling around, stabbing deep, then trilling deliciously with his tongue. His position was submissive, but he was anything but. He took what was all his, laying claim to her pleasure. Every time demanding more from her, every time a deeper, wider surrender.

She quivered in his ruthless grip, pushing herself eagerly against his face. The mirror was cold and hard against her back, the edge of the vanity cut into her bottom, she didn’t even know anymore which way gravity was supposed to be pulling her except closer to his hungry, sucking mouth, closer, whipping her up to a screaming intensity—

Wave after wave of sweet hot pleasure throbbed through her, lapping over every nerve.

Far too soon after that, he pulled her up onto her rubbery legs, turning her so they both faced the mirror. She caught herself with her hands on the edge of the dresser, panting through flushed, shaking red lips as he kicked off his jeans. Naked and hard and huge.

“I like the mirror,” he said. “I want you to watch your own face while I f*ck you. I want you to see how hot you look when you’re sighing and moaning and coming. Pull your panties down, Liv.”

She shook her head. “I can’t do it like this, standing up,” she said breathlessly. “No way. I’m…I’m jelly. I’ll melt. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” A merciless smile curved his mouth. “You will. You’ll do whatever I want. You like it that way. You like me this way.”

He had her, the arrogant bastard, but there was nothing she could do when he touched her like that, nuzzling the hair away from the nape of her neck while he yanked her panties halfway down her thighs.

“You jerk. You’re b-being ridiculous,” she forced out.

“Works for me.” He tugged her arms until they folded. “Prop yourself up on your elbows. I love your ass at that angle. I can see your * lips kissing my cock. I like to see your legs shake. I want to f*ck you until you’re tottering on those heels.” He kissed her nape. The scorching contact of his skin against her body made her gasp.

“I love to make you tremble,” he murmured. “I love to make you weak, to make you wet.” His voice was hypnotic, almost chanting. “I love to make you moan and whimper.” He fitted the blunt head of his penis against her, easing it with licking, back-and-forth strokes between her labia. “Make some noise when I shove my cock into you.”

He followed words with action, driving himself deep, and jolting a gasping cry out of her. He waited, motionless, until she could feel his heartbeat throbbing deep inside her against her womb, until she started moving, twitching her bottom against his groin to get him going.

He let out a soft sigh. She realized that he’d been holding his breath, afraid that he’d hurt her. Not that he would ever admit it while he was playing his macho caveman games. She wanted to smack that arrogant look off his gorgeous face, but she needed that injection of heat and energy he was giving to her even more. His deep, thrusting strokes, made her feel so female, so alive. Their eyes were locked in the mirror. He slid his hand between her leg and stroked her clit as he pumped, pulsed, stoking that yearning glow with slow, sure skill.

On and on, until still more unbearable pleasure wrenched through her.

When she looked up, he’d withdrawn from her shaking body, and was waiting, massaging his rigid member with a rough fist. He scooped his arm around her belly and spun her to face him, leaning his damp forehead against hers. His thick erection prodded her thigh, insistently.

“Make me come,” he begged.

She sank to her knees, pulling him into her mouth, clutching his hips. She sucked him hard, flicking her tongue along the sensitive flare, swirling, teasing. Just a few long, voluptuous strokes, as deep as she could take him, deeper than she’d ever dreamed she could.

He exploded, pumping his salty male essence into her mouth.

He sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, giving her something to cling to so she wouldn’t melt into a puddle.

Some minutes later, she felt him shift and move, pawing at the bedclothes. He got up, and pulled her body down on top of his on the bed. Still in her shoes and stockings. Panties wound around her thighs.

She must have slept for a while, and woke up disoriented. Her only point of reference in the world was Sean’s big, hard body, holding her tightly against him. It felt so safe, so warm. But nature was calling.

He protested sleepily as she extricated herself, but she insisted, murmuring something soothing. She pried the sandals off and padded into the bathroom, took care of her business, and stood there staring at herself in the mirror for a long time. As if she’d never seen that woman before. Makeup smeared, hair big and wild and tangled. Tricked out in whorish lingerie. Private parts throbbing and hot and slippery, from hard, prolonged use. Badly in need of a wash.

She set the water running into the big tub and peeled off the underwear. The panties were a lost cause. Unwearable.

She went back to the bed and tugged Sean’s arm. “I ran us a bath,” she told him. “Come on.”

He followed obediently enough, and climbed into the tub. She shut off the roaring tap, sudsed her hands up and started in on his chest, his muscular arms, his long, gorgeous hands. Loving the way the soapy water made his streaks and whorls of dark blond body hair so sleek, so deliciously touchable, strokable. Kissable.