Taming Lily (The Fowler Sisters #3)(55)

“I’m sorry, too,” she whispers as she bends her head down, offering me a tempting view of her neck. I give in, pressing my mouth against her nape, trailing light kisses to her shoulder. She softens with every touch of my lips, gooseflesh rising in my wake, a quiet sigh escaping her. I crowd in closer, my hands going to the railing as I box her in.

“What are you doing?” she asks, turning her head toward mine just as I take her mouth in a deep kiss. I don’t want to talk. Talking causes problems between us and tonight I plan on finishing what I started. Her hand goes to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair as she holds me close, and I drink from her lips.

“I just want to make you feel good,” I whisper against her skin, satisfaction filling me when I feel her shiver. My cock is already hard, just being this close to her. Tasting her, feeling her, smelling her again. I break the kiss and she turns her head, facing toward the ocean once more. A couple passes by down below, holding hands as they walk along the winding sidewalk, and I slip my arms around Lily, reaching my hands up so I cup her breasts.

“Someone could see us,” she whispers as she pushes her breasts into my palms. Her automatic responses to my touch build the need already roaring inside of me to a near frenzy. How can I walk away from her?

How can I let her go?

“Max,” she whispers urgently, though she hasn’t pushed my hands away. “I’m serious.” She doesn’t sound serious. No, more like she sounds keyed up. Turned on.

I smile. I think she likes the idea that someone might see us. “I doubt they’d look up.” I tug on the elastic that keeps her strapless top up, pulling the fabric down so her breasts are bared. A gasp escapes her as I brush my palms over her hard nipples, kneading her abundant flesh, and she leans into me with a soft moan, her ass rubbing against the front of my pants, teasing my dick.

“What if they do?” she asks breathlessly.

“Then we’ll put on a show for them,” I whisper in her ear, then kiss and lick her neck. With my right hand I reach for the fabric of her skirt, gathering it, lifting it up. Leaning away from her, I watch as I pull her dress up past her perfect ass, hissing out a breath when I reveal her to my gaze.

A lacy white thong runs up the crack of her ass, all that tight flesh on display just for me, and I smooth my palm over the tantalizing curve, triumph filling me when she backs into my touch. I squeeze her ass cheek hard, leaving marks on her skin, and then I spank her, more of a light tap that makes her suck in a harsh breath.

I slip my hand down between her legs, where the lacy fabric of her panties is soaked straight through. I nudge it aside, sinking my finger into her drenched heat, and she moans my name as I start to finger-f*ck her.

“Like that, princess?” I ask, my other hand busy squeezing her breasts. She nods furiously, like she’s too overcome to speak, and I slide another finger inside her tight *. “I want to f*ck you right where you stand,” I growl, overcome with my base need for her. I touch her, kiss her, and all I can think about is conquering her. Making her mine.

All mine.

“Do it,” she murmurs, working her hips against my fingers and sending me deeper within her. “Fuck me.”

“That means I have to stop touching you and I’m not ready yet.” She doesn’t protest, doesn’t make any sorts of demands, and I’m surprised. That’s our biggest problem when we’re together like this. It’s a battle of wills, a show as to who’s the one ultimately in control. Drives me f*cking nuts and I know it makes her crazy, too.

But we’re so damn good together. She’s so responsive, so needy for my touch, my mouth, my cock. She’s writhing against me right now, her * so wet, and those inner walls are clenching rhythmically. She’s getting off on this, her hands gripped tight around the metal railing, her ass thrust toward me almost obscenely.

Hell, I’m getting off on this, on watching her, touching her, feeling her. My cock strains so hard against the front of my pants, my zipper will probably imprint on my f*cking skin if I don’t let it free soon. It’s as if we can’t resist each other.

And we can’t. I don’t want to resist her.

I think she feels the same.

“Please,” she whispers as she strains against my hand. The need in her voice is intense and I slip my arm around her waist, my fingers still buried in her *.

I bend over her, resting my cheek against hers as I whisper, “Please what, baby girl?”

“Please let me come,” she says, whimpering when I still my fingers.

It’s the words let me come that gets to me. As if she’s asking permission. As if she’s finally realized who’s the one in charge here and it’s not her.

Fuck.

“You don’t want to wait for my cock?” I ask her.

Now it’s her turn to go completely still, though her body trembles in my embrace. “I do. I want it. But …”

“You want to come now,” I finish for her.

She nods. “I’m sorry.”

That does it. She’s giving me everything I crave, saying all the right things, responding in exactly the right way. If she’s purposely trying to drive me out of my f*cking mind, it’s working. “No need to say sorry,” I reassure her. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Before she can say anything, do anything, I angle my hand, slipping my thumb over her swollen clit, and press hard. A relieved sigh escapes her and she rotates her hips, grinds her * against my hand as she starts to pant. She’s working toward her orgasm, racing toward it I bet, and I decide to help her along.