Big Rock(36)

Natural blonde.

I press my nose into the hair and inhale her. I am about to taste her. I am about to slide my tongue between my best friend’s legs, and I’ve never been so f*cking turned on in my life.

“Believe me now?”

“What do you mean?” Her voice sounds as if it’s floating.

“That I’m attracted to you.”

“Yes,” she says on a pant.

“It’s beyond attraction, Charlotte. I’m f*cking dying to taste you, and you better not ever doubt how much I want you, with me on my knees, peeling off your panties so I can bury my face between your thighs,” I tell her, and her hips shoot closer to me.

“I don’t doubt it anymore. I swear I don’t,” she says, so damn desperate to be touched.

I kiss her once right above her clit. Her moans tell me she’s an inferno.

Just like me.

I slide the lace to her ankles, and with her hands on my shoulders, she steps out of them. I raise my face, meeting her dark eyes that blaze with a lust that matches mine. No more words. No more teasing. No more waiting.

I press my hands on the insides of her thighs, widen her stance, and groan headily as I marvel at the sight before me—Charlotte’s beautiful, hot, wet *.

And that gorgeous clit, already hard and throbbing for me.

I dart out my tongue, flicking it across her swollen clit, and she unleashes the most glorious moan I’ve ever heard in my life. I grip her thighs, holding on as I kiss her sweet *. I could go to town on her right now. I could lap her up like a crazed, hungry man. But as much as I want to devour her, I need to pace her, to learn if she likes it fast and hungry, or if she needs more build-up. Flicking my tongue across her clit, I lick her where she wants me most. Judging from the way her fingernails curl into my shoulders, she doesn’t need much more than the tip of my tongue.

She tastes like sex and dreams and lust, and she’s flooding my mouth with every lick. My body isn’t just an inferno; it’s a volcano. My veins run with lava, and my pulse beats everywhere with desire. My dick is setting world records for hardness as it strains against the zipper of my jeans.

I need to drink this woman in. I need to be coated in her. I want her wetness covering my stubbled chin, my jaw, my face. I want this slick heat on my goddamn nose.

Using my fingers, I spread her open and lick across her slick folds. She moans in pleasure. “Oh God.”

That’s all she says for the next few minutes as I consume her sinfully sweet *, learning how she likes it. She rocks into me, her hips rolling with a wildness that mirrors the staccato speed of her erratic breathing. As I slip my tongue inside her, she digs her nails into my shoulders. As I return my mouth to her clit, she bucks against me. As I slide one finger inside her tight walls, she sings.

She f*cking sings.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God.”

She’s said little else the entire time, and it’s awesome. I love her inability to form words. I love that she can’t talk while she’s in heaven from my tongue, and she can only manage moans.

She hits the highest note I’ve ever heard, and she f*cks my face in a frenzy. Her hands shoot up from my shoulders to grip my skull, and she rides my face while I lap up every last ounce of her sweetness as she comes in my mouth.

She tastes better than she did in the shower.

Better than my fantasies.

She’s all real, and her orgasm is spread on my lips and all over my chin.

I am so f*cking happy and so incredibly horny.

I stand, and loop one arm behind her head. She’s shaking. Trembling everywhere.

Then I tell her the thing I couldn’t say last night in the cab.

“God, I want to f*ck you so f*cking badly right now.”

She answers me with the three best words a man can ever hear. “I want you.” Wait. I counted wrong. Five best words, because she adds two more. “I want you so much.”





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


I scoop up her warm, pliant body, and carry her to the table in my dining room. Trust me, this is not a spur-of-the-moment decision.

I’ve cycled through all the possible positions and chosen this one.

Missionary—though fantastic—is not going to blow her mind for our opening night. Nor can she be on top, because I need to be in control. And no way am I f*cking her from behind or on all fours the first time I sink into her. I want to see her face as I f*ck her. I want to watch her lips part as she flies over the cliff, and I want to see her eyes as she comes undone.

I set her bare ass gently on the edge of the wood, and her eyes widen as realization dawns on her. For a second, I want to ask if she and Bradley ever made it out of the bedroom, but the impulse fades as quickly as it appeared, because I don’t care. She’s mine right now, and he will never ever get his hands on this beautiful, amazing woman again. He messed it up, and I get to have her.

“Stay here,” I tell her sharply, as I walk back to the coffee table to grab the condom.

“I wasn’t actually planning on going anywhere,” she says in a monotone, and I smile, loving that her dry humor is never far away.

When I return, I unbutton my jeans, unzip them, push them down my legs, then kick them off. In a second, those busy hands of hers are on me, tugging off my boxer briefs as she nibbles on the corner of her lip.

When she frees my cock, it salutes her. Her eyes don’t just widen. They turn to moons. “Holy shit,” she murmurs and clasps a hand over her mouth.