Tangled (The Tangled Series)(74)

Jesus. The taste of her—my memory was unforgivably inadequate. I feel like a recovering crack addict who just fell off the wagon and never wants to climb back on.

Our hands grope at each other. It’s explosive. Combustible.

Burn, baby, burn.

I drag my lips across her jaw. She tilts her head to give me more room, and I attack her neck. She’s panting. We both are. My hands are in her hair, holding her hostage. And her hands are on my chest skimming my ribs and waist. I have no f*cking clue how she got my shirt opened. I’m just glad she did. My fingers whisper down her back to the hem of her dress. Then I slide them under it, cupping her smooth, firm ass.

She must be wearing a thong.

I massage and squeeze, pressing our hips together. Kate’s mouth replaces her hands, moving across my chest and lower. And I start to really f*cking lose it. I grab the back of her dress in both hands and pull—ripping it almost in two. Kind of like the Incredible Hulk.

“I’ll buy you a new one, I swear.”

It falls to her waist. And our bare chests crash together.

Fuck me. I missed this. How in Christ did I ever go an hour—let alone days—without feeling her against me like this? Too f*cking long.

“God, Drew.”

Her hands are across my back now. Scratching and kneading. My mouth is at her ear, demanding, “Whatever underwear you’ve got on? I’m keeping them.” I drop to my knees, scorching a path between her breasts and down her stomach.

Kate gasps. “That could be a problem.”

“Why?”

I drag her dress down to the floor. And then I stare—mesmerized—at Kate’s bare snatch.

“Because I’m not wearing any.”

My cock moans in agony. And then I look up at her. “You always go commando to business meetings with friends?”

She smiles shyly. “I guess I was hoping you’d change my mind about that.”

For a second, I’m stunned. She wanted this. Just as badly as I did. And I wasted all that time eating chicken Marsala—when I could have been eating her.

God.

Damn.

Without another word, I dive in. Like a toddler getting his first luscious taste of birthday cake. I sink my face—my tongue—into her *. She tastes warm and silky like the liquid sugar on top of a cinnamon bun, but sweeter.

Kate’s knees buckle, but I brace my hands at the small of her back and slide her legs over my shoulder. And then I lay back on the floor so she’s straddling my face.

Like I’ve dreamed of every damn night.

She writhes and gasps above me. Unabashedly. And I devour her in a starving frenzy. Her whimpers get higher. Louder. Her hand reaches back. And she strokes my cock over my pants.

You ever heard of a two-pump chump? Well, if she doesn’t stop touching me real frigging quickly, you’re going to get a bird’s-eye view of one.

I grab her hand and lock our fingers together. Kate uses them for leverage as she rotates her hips, rubbing her gorgeous cunt against my mouth. She moves once, twice…and then she’s coming. Screaming my name brokenly.

She breathes deep as she comes back down. Then she slides sinuously over my body till our mouths line up. And we’re kissing. It’s savage and rough—all tongue and teeth. My hands push through her hair, pulling it loose. Her hips grind against my dick, and her wetness soaks through my pants.

“Fuck, Kate. I’m going to come so f*cking hard.”

I just hope I’m actually inside her when I do.

She swirls her tongue around my nipple before she tells me, “Pants, Drew. Off.”

My hips bow off the floor as I tear at the button on my pants. I manage to push them and my boxers down to my knees, but I’m too out of my mind to get them off completely.

I grab her hips and bring them lower. And my cock slides effortlessly inside her.

Christ Almighty.

We freeze—our faces just millimeters apart—our breaths harsh and entwined. My eyes hold hers. And then she moves. Slowly. Drawing me almost completely out—before surging back down. My head falls back, and my lids close.

It’s perfect. Divine.

My hands are splayed across her hips. Helping her. Gripping hard enough to bruise. And then she sits up, arching her back till her hair brushes my knees. I force my eyes open, needing to see her. Her head’s back, her breasts are high, and her lips are open as euphoric moans and nonsensical words slip out.

You know how sometimes you read about naked pictures of some moron’s wife getting leaked onto the Internet? I never got that.

But now I do. Because if I had a camera? I’d be snapping that shutter like the freaking paparazzi. To capture this moment. To remember how Kate looks right now. Because she’s just that magnificent. More stunning than any masterpiece in the Louvre—more breathtaking than all the Seven Wonders combined.

She moves faster, harder. And I feel the pressure building low in my gut.

“Yeah, Kate. Ride me…just like that.”

Her tits bounce with each thrust. Hypnotically. And I just can’t resist a taste. I sit up and cover one tip with my mouth, laving and flicking her pointy little peak with my tongue. She screams as her legs wrap around my back—pulling me tighter—rubbing her clit along my happy trail.

She’s close. We’re f*cking close. But I don’t want it end. Not yet.