Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)(29)

The whole time, he kissed me desperately and deeply, desirably.

I popped his button and slid one hand straight inside his boxers. My fingers immediately made contact with his erection, and my thumb pressed against the bead of pre-cum on the end, swirling it all over the head of his cock. It was the smallest amount but served as just enough lubrication that I could lean up, putting one hand behind me, and work his cock in my fist.

He groaned every time my thumb swept open the top, and I didn’t care about kissing him, not anymore.

If this was on my terms, it was fully on my terms.

I pushed him back, sat up, and jumped off the desk. He took two steps back and looked at me, one eyebrow quirked expectantly, like he knew exactly what I was going to do.

I dropped to my knees.

Pulled his pants and his boxers down.

And took his long, thick cock into my mouth.

His groan was loud and obvious, and he twined his fingers in my hair as I swirled my tongue around the head of his dick. The salty taste of his pre-cum lingered there, and I licked until I could taste it anymore. Then I rammed him to the back of my throat. I gagged, my eyes watering, but his grip on my hair tightened, so I held myself there as long as I could before pulling back and doing it all over again.

“Fuck!” he half growled.

I smiled against his cock and wrapped my hand around the base.

He could play with his words all he wanted.

I was playing for real—with my mouth.

His cock throbbed against my tongue as I worked him with my hand and my mouth. The tightening of his hand in my hair coupled with the gentle thrusts of his hips as he pushed himself farther into my mouth spurred me on, moved me faster, and made me take him deeper—until he yanked my head back and looked down into my eyes.

“Up,” he demanded, his voice rough and raspy.

I reached back and used the table to help me up as he kept hold of my hair. No sooner was I fully on my feet than West had pulled me toward him, his exhale hot on my mouth.

“Dirty girl.” His tone was still deep and rough. “Giving in already?”

“No.” I raised my gaze from his plump lips to the sparkling, blue gaze that was hot on me. I reached between us and firmly took his cock in my hand. “It’s not giving in if I come to you, is it?”

Those lips curved into the smirk I was so familiar with, and he gripped my ass so tight that I felt the sting down my thighs. “No, Mia. That’s not how it works.” He tugged me against him so his cock pressed against my stomach and I had to let him go. “You don’t come to me, angel. You give in. And you will give in, and when you do, you’ll scream my name so f*cking loudly you’ll never doubt this attraction ever again.”

“Until then? You gonna stand there with a rock-hard cock, are you, West? Gonna pretend you weren’t just trying not to come down my throat?”

“Filthy little mouth,” he murmured in my ear. He nipped my earlobe. “No, not at all. I’m gonna go lie on that sofa, and you’re gonna get undressed so you’re in nothing but those heels, and you’re gonna come sit your tight, little cunt on my face so I can lick it until you come in my mouth. And then, my dirty angel, you’re gonna suck me so hard you choke right before you swallow every last drop of me.”

He sharply slapped my ass and let me go. Then he stepped out of the ripped jeans and the tight briefs. He grabbed his cock and held it as he crossed to the giant sectional sofa and lay back on it. He pulled a cushion from beneath his head and looked over at me.

And...f*ck.

He lay there, all six foot three of male goodness, his blue eyes burning with lust and his hand wrapped firmly around his cock.

Only insanity would have made me leave.

I grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it up and over my head. My bra followed, falling on top of the mound of material that was my dress. Then I turned, sank my teeth into my lower lip, and peered back over my shoulder. His hand was moving faster up and down his dick as I hooked my thumbs into the sides of my lace thong and pulled it over my ass.

“Get the f*ck over here.” It was an order. Short. Sharp. Demanding.

A thrill ran down my spine.

I swept my hair around to one side the way he kept doing and walked to him. Then I bent down over him. I took one long, slow suck of his cock before flattening my hand against his flawless stomach and kissing him. He stroked his hand down my back to my butt and slapped it for the second time.

“On me. Now. Come and sit on my f*cking face, Mia.”

I swung my leg over his head, looking back to make sure I didn’t accidentally hit him—because that was a thing, and I’d done it before. Fortunately, my leg hit the sofa, clear of his head, and he put my knee in the right place next to his head then grabbed my hips.

And pulled me down to his mouth before I could even grab his cock.

He covered my * with his mouth and circled my clit with his tongue. It was only instinct that made me take hold of his cock and close my mouth over it. West teased me so expertly with his mouth, and it only took seconds before I was rocking against him, moaning, at the very same time I was drawing him deep back to my throat.

His fingers dug into my skin as he held my hips down, my * in his mouth. His strength made it impossible for me to do anything but rock myself back and forth against his deft tongue, and the orgasm built quicker than I’d expected.

I sucked him harder, took him deeper, made him thrust, right as his tongue rubbed over my clit so harshly that my body shuddered and I cried out with my release. I tried to pull away from him as I moaned over his cock, but he clamped one arm around my lower back and kept up the fervent assault, never slowing, never letting my clit breathe.