Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games #2)(72)

Holding my gaze, Connor slowly unbuckles his belt. He slides it through the belt loops, smiling this devilishly wicked smile, his full lips curved, his eyes heavy-lidded and hot.

A shiver racks my body. Dizzy with lust and anticipation, I wriggle my hips.

Connor chuckles. Still holding on to his belt, he unzips his pants. I see the big bulge beneath his boxer briefs and moisten my lips.

He walks slowly around the side of the bed. Leaning over, he gathers my hands in his and then presses them to the pillow over my head. He wraps his belt around my wrists, tightening the hold with a firm tug at the end.

Looking intently down at me, he whispers, “Okay?”

I nod.

“Say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes. Okay.”

He nods, satisfied, and then returns to the end of the bed. Slowly, never taking his gaze from mine, he strips out of the rest of his clothing. When he’s fully naked, his erection jutting out proudly, a drop of moisture glistening on the slit in the head, he growls, “You look f*cking amazing.”

He grips his cock in one hand. With the other, he reaches down and thumbs over my clit.

I close my eyes, lost in sensation. Beyond the excruciating pleasure, I hear his voice, praising me.

“Your tits are gorgeous. Your skin is perfect. And that ass.” He softly groans.

“Fuck me,” I whisper, “Please. I need you.”

Instead of his cock, I get his mouth again, teasing my clit. My back bows from the bed. He pinches both my nipples. A shock wave of pleasure rolls through me. I moan his name.

“Fuck my face, angel,” he pants. “Come in my mouth. Let me taste you.”

My hips twitch involuntarily at his words. God, that dirty mouth destroys me.

His fingers dig into my ass as he lifts me, grinding his mouth against my core. I feel the rough scrape of his unshaven jaw against my thighs, the tug of his teeth against the most sensitive part of my body. The sounds he makes are loud and carnal, sucking and smacking, completely erotic. Moaning and rolling my hips, helplessly bound and abandoned, I ride the strokes of his tongue until I’m right at the razor’s edge—

Then he presses a finger inside me, and I come.

It’s violent, taking over my entire body. I can’t tell where it starts or ends, it feels as if it originates from everywhere at once.

I scream.

It feels so good to let go, so good to give myself over to him. I never want it to end.

Connor moans into me, encouraging me as I explode, convulsing and writhing, oblivious to everything else but the pleasure he’s giving me.

“Yes. Beautiful. You taste like f*cking heaven,” he whispers, licking me, kissing me, worshipping me with his mouth.

I’m full of him, coming for him, and still I want more. I groan. My thighs shake. Every part of me shakes. Every part of me is desperate for his touch, for his hot, filthy words and sweet, gentle possession. I want whatever he wants to give me, but most of all, I want it now.

Connor rises. He sets my ankles on his shoulders and pulls me down to the edge of the mattress so his cock is pressed against my *. I feel it twitch and pulse.

I rock my hips against his hard length, loving it when I hear him hiss out a sharp breath. He turns his face to my leg and bites me on the ankle.

“You good?”

His voice is gravelly with lust, but also soft with concern, and that shatters me. I open my eyes and look at him. He’s flushed, breathing hard, the muscles in his chest and arms are corded and tense. Gorgeous.

When I nod, he bites me just a little harder. He watches me lick my lips. Trailing his hands down my calves to my thighs, he rocks his hips so that his cock slides through my wet folds, back and forth, slow and torturing.

My head tilts back. My eyes slide shut. I moan.

“Gonna f*ck you now, princess.”

“Thank God.”

His laugh is soft and pleased. Then the engorged head of his erection presses into my heat.

He slides in agonizingly slow, so I feel every inch, until I’m so full, my moans are broken. When he stays like that, hot and throbbing inside me, unmoving, just running his hands up and down my legs and over my hips, I tilt my pelvis and whimper. “Now now now now now!”

His laugh is soft and dark. He slides halfway out and then grips my hips and plunges deep inside me.

I cry out his name. He starts to f*ck me with short, hard strokes, his fingers digging into my flesh, grunts of pleasure torn out of him with every thrust. He’s talking too, words of adoration whispered in his rich, husky voice, but I lose the shape of them beneath the crashing of my heartbeat in my ears, and just let myself fall deeper.

My legs slide off his shoulders. He falls on top of me, kissing me savagely on my belly and breasts, biting, licking, sucking, all the while grunting and panting, sounding wild. He rears up on his elbows and grips my head, pulling my hair, manhandling me, rough and tender at the same time. His chest is slick with sweat. My legs wrap around his waist.

My * clenches around him, and I arch, moaning, lost to the sensation. I’m close again.

He says hoarsely into my neck, “Not yet. Tabby—I can’t—hold on—”

He shudders and groans, his words cut off, and I know he’s about to come too.

I turn my face to his ear and plead, “I need you somewhere else.”

He stills, lifts his head, looks at me. When I bite my lip, his dark eyes flash. He slides his hand down my ribs, over my hip to my ass. I feel a press and a stroke between my cheeks, a gentle push, and I gasp when he sinks his finger deep—