Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered #1)(71)

Jesus, his fucking hands were shaking. Yeah, obviously he was horny as all get-out, considering he’d been lusting after Georgie since . . . when? Had it really only been a matter of weeks? The timing seemed impossible when his body corresponded to her shape like a fist pressing into clay. Just, Ahh. I’m here. I made it. I don’t want to come up for air.

Or it might feel that comfortable if his cock wasn’t swearing like a sailor at him, demanding to know why he kept almost fucking Georgie, then stopping. This isn’t like us, man! it seemed to shout inside Travis’s mind, growing fuller and aching harder by the second. Especially when he settled that suffering bulk on her pussy and let his hips sink down, catching her shaky gasp with his mouth as a reward.

His dick was right. He wasn’t used to waiting. But thank God he had. If he’d gobbled her up in one bite, he’d have missed this chance to savor—something he’d never given a shit about before. Now? His senses seemed to wake up and beg. For the clean smell of her skin, the tentative brushes of her tongue, her fingertips skating up his sides. Their breaths were loud in the quiet room, along with the sounds of their bodies shifting on soft leather, the couch springs sighing.

“Netflix,” he rasped, breaking the kiss, then immediately diving at her neck for a taste. “We were supposed to, uh . . . Cold Mountain?”

“No.” She writhed beneath him, the insides of her knees smoothing along his hips. “Just, um . . . definitely forget the movie.”

He rocked against her pussy, making them both groan. “I want to do this right, Georgie. Exactly how you wanted it to be.”

“If this went according to the plan, I would be wearing a slinky off-the-shoulder number and serving a signature cocktail, so . . . out with the bathwater, okay?”

Only this human being could make him laugh when his balls were on the verge of mutiny. One second, laughter kindled in his throat, and the next, it was tight. Just tight. Because flushed and looking up at him with her bright green eyes, Georgette Castle was the most beautiful thing on the planet. He wanted to give her pleasure. Wanted to protect her. And fuck the consequences, he wanted to turn himself into her addiction. Next time he walked through the front door of this house, she wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off him. Or her sexy mouth. No more hesitations.

“Slinky off-the-shoulder number, huh?” Travis murmured, going in for a kiss, but detouring down the center of her body, before they could connect. While sliding lower on the couch, he dragged his open mouth down the front of her T-shirt and drew up the hem. “Maybe next time. Right now, I want you bare.”

Georgie’s stomach shuddered under his regard. “Oh, I’m pretty close to—”

“Where are your panties?” The last word of Travis’s question came out as a growl, thanks to the smooth, delicious-looking pussy now level with his mouth. When he’d had his hips wedged between Georgie’s thighs, there’d been a layer of T-shirt between them, so he didn’t know she’d been going commando. No getting past it now, though. Or the distinct shade of pink along the center crease—a crease his tongue wanted to slide apart in a long lick. “Forget I asked. You should never keep this covered when it’s just you and me. Ask me why.”

She gave an audible swallow. “Why?”

Travis lowered his mouth, planting a firm kiss on the split of her sex. “Because if I’m not licking it, I’m going to be figuring out a way to spread your thighs so I can.” He used his fingers to separate her flesh, then greeted what he’d uncovered, rubbing her with the flat of his tongue. Goddamn, so sweet. So fucking sweet. “The wet tells me that’s exactly what you want, Georgie.”

“Please.” She seemed almost embarrassed by the lift of her hips, as if she wanted to play it cool but her body wouldn’t allow it. “Please.”

“I like the word ‘please.’” He twisted his middle finger into her opening, his head dropping forward with a curse at the reminder she was so damn tight. “‘More.’ ‘Harder.’ ‘Faster.’ ‘Deeper.’ Those work, too.”

Georgie’s eyes rolled back in her head, her thighs falling open a couple inches. So trusting for a virgin. Because she trusted him?

Yeah, he thought so. Needed it more than was wise.

Travis eased his middle finger in and out of Georgie’s opening, watching his handiwork up close. The way her inner thighs trembled, her belly hollowing. The way her clit became more prominent, as if requesting his tongue. Tempting it. Starved for the full experience of her scent, her texture, her taste, Travis had no choice but to bring his mouth lower, tucking a tongue alongside his finger in her entrance, listening to her breathing go shallow, before drawing it back out. Sliding it higher. With his finger driving in and out—faster now—preparing her, the sexy sounds of her growing slickness making his mouth work harder, his tongue curling around her clit. Absorbing her shiver.

“Travis.”

“Tell me if you’re going to—”

“How do I know? This isn’t h-how it feels when I . . .”

He pushed his finger deep and jiggled it against her G-spot, giving a pained smile when she cried out, her hips jerking on the couch. “You’ll know.”

Georgie’s back arched. “Oh . . . I think?” Her fingernails clawed at his shoulders. “Maybe now. Yeah. Now.”