Page 160 of The Reason I Married Him
The sharpness of his tongue.
The heavenly moans as he tastes me over and over again.
“So fucking good,” he mutters before he returns his mouth.
Diving.
Addicted.
Giving me so much pleasure with every single simple stroke.
He kisses me.
Sucks.
Applies just enough pressure that I’m clawing at the man, my mind swirling, my body reacting. It takes about one minute for him to drop to his knees and bring me all the way to the edge.
“God, Wyatt,” I say as I tense. He must be able to tell because his mouth moves in more, his tongue, right against my clit, flicking and flicking . . . and flicking.
My body lights up, tension coils at the base of my spine, the air around us seems to still while he works his mouth over me until I’m standing on my toes, ready for release.
“Wyatt . . . I . . . I . . . oh, fuuuuck,” I drag out as he licks me one more time, and I tip over the edge, my orgasm rocking through me at such a powerful force that he has to press his hand to my stomach to keep me from toppling over.
And as pleasure rips through me, he doesn’t stop. He keeps using his mouth over me until I can’t take it anymore.
“No . . . no more,” I say as I breathe heavily, my back firmly against the door.
He lifts away from my skirt and looks up at me, the most satisfied smile crossing his lips.
His tongue moves around his mouth, licking up every last drop before he says, “Fucking delicious, Aubree.”
He stands from the floor, and he helps me adjust my skirt.
“Christ, I needed that,” he says.
He needed that?
Uh, I’m pretty sure I just forgot my name. If anyone needed that, it was me. One hundred percent I needed that.
He takes a step forward and lifts my chin.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah, I’m . . . I’m okay.” Feeling wobbly, I lean into him, my pelvis brushing against his . . .
Wait . . . holy shit.
Is that his . . .?
I move my hand between us and brush my knuckles over his very present erection. Oh my God, it is. “Wyatt,” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
“You’re so hard.”
“I was hard the moment you sat on my lap. When you started moving, that was the end for me. I knew I had to get up and calm myself down.” I move my palm over the bulge now. “When you followed me, that was the end of it,” he says. “I couldn’t hold back.”
“You need a release,” I say as I start to kneel before him, but he stops me.
