My Killer Vacation(57)

I carry her dripping across the bathroom floor and slap that tight ass down on the vanity, already unzipping my jeans. And she’s killing me, absolutely slaying me in her current state of dripping wet, suds sliding down her nipples and belly, lips parted and whimpering. I shouldn’t have let my lust triple and quadruple and turn infinite like this. Now she’s got a head bandage and I’m too hard to do anything but bang her into next weekend.

“Taylor,” I grunt, shuddering with relief when I finally get my cock free from behind my confining zipper. My body is screaming at me to rip off her soaked thong, enter her in a hard pump and don’t stop until I come. But this fucking adoration, this…way she has my chest in a vise, has me tilting her chin up and looking her in the eye. “Tell me you’re not too hurt for this. Tell me you’re not just shaken up and needing comfort.”

“I do. I need comfort. Just from you.” She trails a finger down my stomach and up the underside of my cock, causing me to grit a curse. “But I’ve wanted this, too. And I wanted it before today. It’s not the aftermath talking, Myles.”

“If I took advantage of you, I’d never forgive myself—”

“You wouldn’t.” She kisses me once, twice, lingering pecks. “You couldn’t.”

“Tell me you trust me,” I beg against her mouth while my hands yank her to the edge of the vanity. Quick. Her soaked sex colliding with my cock, pushing it up against my stomach.

“I trust you,” she says, unevenly, searching my eyes.

And warning bells are going off. This isn’t just sex. We’ve barely started and my chest feels like it’s going to crack wide open, but there’s no turning back. Not when her nipples are aroused and she’s opening her thighs for me, letting me raid her mouth with my tongue. I’m so horny, I could probably grind on her panties a few times and come, but that’s not good enough. Nothing is good enough for my girl, so I end the kiss and go down on my knees, loving the way she moans when she realizes my intention, her fingers pulling at my shirt to get it off.

As soon as my head is through the neck hole and I’m shirtless, I hook a finger in the crotch of her thong and yank it left, kissing the split of her pussy. Kissing it with just my lips, then familiarizing it with my tongue, parting her pliant lips and searching for that nub. There. So sweet. So swollen, even before I start teasing it. Letting the flat of my tongue ripple against her, then stroking, nice and easy, rougher when she sobs my name. Her hips are beginning to struggle on the vanity, her thighs alternately opening wide and hugging my face.

“Myles.”

I hum into my next lick. Incapable of answering when she tastes this sweet.

“Don’t treat me like I’m fragile, just because of what happened t-today. Okay?” She struggles to breathe in between every few words. “Not you. Please. I especially need to feel…feel strong now.”

Give her what she wants. Give her what she’s asking for.

What she’s been asking for since the beginning.

It’s not just her plea, it’s my Taylor-sense encouraging me to be rough, to fulfill that craving she confided in me—and God knows I’m not a gentle giant. Definitely not right now, when I want her so bad, I can barely see straight or think clearly. Mine.

Test the waters. See where her bar has been set.

“That’s a pretty little cunt, isn’t it?” I say in between drags of my tongue, watching her face. Reading her. Gauging her mood. Finding out where she’s at. And when she rolls her hips sharply into my next lave of her clit, her fingers tangling in my hair, I know. I know how Taylor wants to be fucked. Fast and nasty and hard. That’s what we’ve been dancing around for days. And it’s good for me, it’s good, because I don’t have a goddamn clue how to make love.

This is as close as I’m ever going to get.

I lean sideways a little and slap the wet flesh between her thighs. Not hard. Just enough to get her attention and roll those beautiful eyes back in her head. “Myles.”

“What?” I smack it again, noticing she’s wetter this time. Damn. Perfect, perfect woman. “You like when I spank you in front?”

“Yes,” she whines through her teeth.

I can tell if she’s sweating or just covered in dew from the shower steam, but every inch of her is glistening, including her sex, and it’s the hottest shit I’ve seen in my thirty-four years. This girl-next-door schoolteacher glowing with moisture, her legs spread for my mouth. The smack of my hand. I’m not even inside her yet and I’ll never recover. Never.

My hands travel up her thighs, through the slickness on her heaving ribcage and close around her breasts, squeezing, before I go to work on her nipples. They’ve gotten hard every time we’ve been on the verge of fucking—hell, they pucker up even when we’re eye fucking. Extra sensitive. As soon as I brush my thumbs over those peaks, her trembles get more intense and I go faster with my tongue. Faster and faster, up and down on her clit until she’s got one hand yanking at my hair, the other clutching the edge of the vanity. She screams behind clenched teeth and quakes through her first orgasm, and God help me, I lick it up. I bask in that sweetness and let her see I’m eager for it, proud of it, and she shakes all the harder for my animal grunts and lapping tongue.

But there’s a frantic pulse inside of me, urging me to my feet. Crowding into the V of her thighs with cock in hand. My jeans are around my ankles and I’m a mess. A moaning, dripping mess and there’s nothing in the world that can save me but her. Looking into her dazed eyes, I see nothing but encouragement. I want to be sure, though. “You need to stop, sweetheart, we’ll stop. You hear me? On a fucking dime. Whether it kills me or not.”