Sinful Longing (Sinful Nights, #3)(40)

“Tell me.”

“Thinking about you all day. Like you wanted me to,” she said as she reached the couch. “I’ve been hot and bothered since I left you.”

She sank down on the couch and he followed her there, kneeling over her as she lay down.

“Did you count down the hours?” he asked as he ran a hand up her bare leg.

She nodded as she settled into a pillow at the end of the couch, her chestnut hair spilling across it. “It was pure torture.”

“Were you wet just thinking of me?”

“Yes. Just like now. I was turned on constantly. I ached for you,” she said, as he glided his finger across the damp panel of her panties. His cock twitched against his boxers as he touched her. His delicious, wet, horny Elle. God, he loved how much she wanted it. He loved turning her on. He loved touching her. Pushing her tight little skirt up to her waist, he groaned as he saw her panties—black lace with a tiny bow at the center.

“You need to be naked, right now. Completely naked,” he said, tugging off the panties and removing her heels, too. The shoes were sexy as f*ck, but a plan was a plan was a plan. He needed her in her birthday suit for the first time. “Nothing on. Nothing but you, naked from head to toe, as I bury my face in this sweetness.” He slid a finger through her slick heat as she arched into him, wriggling out of her top at the same time.

She moved to her bra next, freeing her tits. His breath hitched. There she was, down to nothing but her beautiful bare self and the shimmer of desire evident in the flush on her skin. Her eyes, so dark and hungry, told him that she had indeed been one tortured woman all day long.

“I almost feel bad for making you think about me for nine hours straight,” he growled, as he pressed his hands on the insides of her thighs.

Her legs parted, and he groaned as he drank in the sight of her wet *. She was so f*cking sexy, and so damn turned on, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman in his life. “But I can’t find it in me to feel bad when you’re this worked up already.”

She ran a hand through her hair and panted. “I am. Oh God, I am. You’re the only thing I could think about. I’ve been so turned on since I saw you this morning, and I’m dying for you.”

Her words stoked the raging fire in him. It crackled and burned with rampant desire as he opened her legs further, savoring the utterly intoxicating view of this beautiful woman arching her hips toward his mouth.

His dick ached. His erection throbbed against his boxer shorts. His mouth watered as he settled between her legs, hooked them on his shoulders, and at last, at long f*cking last, he kissed her sweet honey center.

*

Oh God.

Oh dear f*cking God in heaven.

She rocked into him the very second he touched her sex. It was like a match on tinder, igniting her instantly. She groaned, she moaned, and she cried out his name. She was a live wire, exposed, ready, and waiting. She’d wanted this for so long, had pictured it often, and had fantasized about it so many times.

Sure, they’d had sex on a handful of occasions, and she’d taken him deep in her mouth twice, but this was virgin territory.

It was a first for them, and if it happened right, it would be a first for her.

She’d never come like this. Sam hadn’t been into it, and she hadn’t been with many others. This was her ultimate fantasy. The one she devoured in her erotica. The one she dreamed of, rode her fingers to, and f*cked herself with toys to images of.

As he swept his tongue across her *, she bowed her back, so ready to sing, to shout, and to scream. He was a f*cking dream. His lips were soft, and his stubble was rough, and his tongue was insistent as he flicked it up and down along her swollen, aching clit. She grabbed his hair as if her hands were a steel grip and she couldn’t let go. She wouldn’t let go. She rocked into his face. Electricity crackled through her, lighting up all her nerves, sizzling her skin.

She cried out his name, and for a second he broke contact to look at her—his eyes were heated, full of the same wild longing. That moment was like a thread between them, a tight, neat line that tethered her to him. To share in this lust for another person was the greatest high, the sweetest intoxication, and, hell, did they have it. She wanted his mouth as much as he wanted to consume her.

“Tell me what you say when you f*ck yourself,” he said in a dirty growl. “Talk to me like you did all the times I devoured you in your fantasies.”

Another wave of desire crashed through her, and she dug her nails into his scalp. Gladly. She’d gladly tell him. She’d used him so many times; she’d gotten off to him countless nights; she’d come to his image over and over.

“Fuck me with your tongue,” she said, panting as she thrust into him.

He moaned as he licked her, cupping her ass and pulling her closer. His tongue explored her. His sinfully delicious lips devoured her, and she’d never felt so lavished, so cherished, or so utterly craved. His hot kisses turned her into a wet, writhing collection of sparking nerve endings and rushing blood cells.

She closed her eyes, sharing with him all the dirty things she’d said in her head as she’d masturbated to him. All the filthy words she imagined she’d say when she finally felt him do this. “I want to ride your face. I want to f*ck your face so hard,” she said, in broken gasps. His tongue kicked into some kind of overdrive, flicking her wildly. He let go of his grip on her ass and grabbed her hands, clasping them tight, clutching them as he feasted on her. Hands in hands, this act became all the more intense.