Flawless (Chestnut Springs #1) (58)

“Yes,” she says meekly, sounding almost embarrassed. And, well, that’s just not going to do.

She needs to know how wild this makes me.

“I love it,” I growl, dropping to one knee, slinging her leg over my shoulder and tugging her ass to the edge of the bed. When I pull the scrap of lace to the side, I feast my eyes on what I’d only felt before.

“All this for me.” I rub her pussy again, feeling her leg clamp down on my shoulder as her head shyly flips to one side. “What a fucking treat.”

She tries to press closed her free leg, and I slide one finger into her wet heat while tutting her. “Nah, nah, nah. Don’t get all shy now. Legs wide open for me, Princess.”

I slide one hand up the back of her thigh to open her as she breathes out a quiet, “Okay.”

Pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee, making sure she feels the rasp of my beard, I ask, “Should I keep going?”

She takes a beat to respond. So, I wait, bestowing more kisses up her inner thigh, grinning when her hips buck. “I’ve never . . . well, this is new.”

I freeze for a moment, looking over her outline from where I’m kneeling. “New? Like no one has tasted this?” I rub her again, and my cock jumps when I realize she’s even wetter than before.

She shakes her head no.

Doctor Douche really is the fucking worst. But I don’t say that. Instead, I reach for the lace underwear and drag them down her legs. If this is going to be her first time riding a man’s face, it’s going to be good. And there aren’t going to be any fancy panties in the way.

When they clear her ankles, I resume my position. “That’s a crime, Summer. A terrible shame.” I slide a finger in and feel her contract around me as she gasps. “It seems I have some wrongs to right.” I pump in and out, raptly watching her pussy take my finger, and then two. “And I’m not even sad about it. Do you know why?”

“Why?” she replies quickly, voice all raspy and thick.

“Because if this were my last moment on earth, that’s how I’d want to go.” I thrust in hard now, watching her body shake with the force, hearing her curse. “Head between these pretty little thighs, your pussy on my tongue.”

I hold her wide open, drop my head, and get to work.





22





Summer





My eyes roll back in my head, and I see stars. Bright and shiny, almost blinding. I’ve heard good sex compares to an out-of-body experience, and I never quite understood that sentiment.

But with Rhett Eaton’s face between my legs, I do.

Both his muscled arms loop around my legs, and one hand splays across my stomach, holding me down. The other is wrapped tight around my thigh, and his fingers dig in so hard that I feel like he might leave bruises right next to the ones from the saddle pinching me a few days earlier.

His tongue.

His. Tongue.

His goddamn tongue.

He’s licking me, almost the way he did at the whipped cream on my breasts, reverently, but with just enough pressure. Just enough suction.

Just the right amount of teeth. He slides his tongue right into me, and when I try to squirm, his calloused hand pushes me harder into the too-soft mattress beneath my back. His beard is prickly and rough against my pussy. Grating on my inner thighs. Increasing my pleasure tenfold. Partly because of the actual sensation, and partly because, well, because it’s Rhett.

Rhett Eaton. My teenaged crush. Rhett Eaton. Sex symbol. Rhett Eaton. Ladies’ man.

Or is he? I’m thinking that’s an outdated perception that he hasn’t been able to shake.

He said he’s been obsessed with me. That was almost as shocking as how good it feels to have his mouth between my legs.

I thought Rhett hated me but tolerated me.

But based on the things he’s said, it seems I have been wrong. Very, very, wrong.

“Rhett!” I cry out, one hand still working at my nipple while my other shoots down to his head. I’m alternating between feeling self-conscious and not giving a fuck because it’s just so damn good.

He pulls back, pausing, “Tell me what you want, Summer.”

He’s killing me with all this talking. Having to say things out loud is firmly outside my comfort zone. For a man who’s never been huge on chatting, he sure has a lot to say once my clothes come off.

I push up onto my elbows and look down at him, his eyes still fixed on my pussy. “I want you to stop making me say things out loud.” I half laugh.

His eyes flit up to mine and he grins, the most carnal grin, before he licks his lips and winks at me. “What can I say? I like your pink cheeks and watching you squirm.”

I blush harder.

He gently unhooks my legs and stands, towering over my exposed body. Making me feel remarkably vulnerable. He drops his ruined shirt on the floor and quirks a brow at me. “Did I tell you to stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Touching yourself. Keep going.”

I swallow, wondering how I’m reacting to him this strongly. It’s consuming, and I don’t even consider saying no. Instead, I fall back onto the bed and slide one hand up my stomach before gripping my breast.

I do the same with the opposite, but when my knees tilt inward, his calloused palm gives one leg a little push open. “I’m not done with that,” he growls as he shucks off his pants, turning briefly to pull something out of his bag, giving me a glorious view of his ass.