Page 106 of IRL: In Real Life
The scrape of his beard against the soft inside of my thighs, the wet heat of his mouth, the little guttural noises he made every time I gave him another clue about what I liked, all of it started tearing me apart in the best possible way. He licked me deeper. Sucked my clit just hard enough to make me gasp. Pulled back only to say, “There it is,” when my legs started shaking, then went right back in like he had every intention of finishing what he had started.
When I came, it hit hard and low and shameless.
My whole body clenched around nothing. One heel dug into the floor. My head tipped back against the dresser, and his name tore out of me with no composure left on it at all.
He stayed there through all of it.
Lapping. Sucking. Working me through the aftershocks until I was trembling and oversensitive and still trying to open wider for him because my body had plainly decided it belonged to his mouth tonight.
By the time he rose, kissing his way up my stomach, I was still shaking, still half braced against the dresser, still trying to catch my breath.
Then he kissed me with my own taste still on his mouth.
That alone could have ruined me.
I reached for him harder this time, both hands going to his belt. My fingers fumbled. He helped me without saying much, just gave me one low laugh against my mouth when I nearly got the button wrong.
Then his jeans were open and my hand was on him.
My breath left me all over again.
Thick.
So fucking thick.
Hot. Heavy. Hard enough that the weight of him in my palm made my pussy clench in answer. I stroked once, and his forehead dropped to mine.
“Damn,” he breathed.
I did it again, slower this time, and felt the way his whole body answered. His hand tightened at my waist. His eyes shut for a second like he was talking himself through keeping some kind of order in the room.
Then he caught my wrist gently.
“You keep doing that, I’m not making it to the bed.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
That got a rough little laugh out of him.
“Your mouth slick as hell,” he said, eyes dark on mine. “And I’m gonna remember that.”
The words hit me so hard my whole body answered before he laid another hand on me. My breath caught. A hot, dangerous rush moved low through me, sharp enough to feel like the very edge of an orgasm without him even touching me.
That surprised me.
The force of it.
The way his dirty mouth could get under my skin and send heat flashing through me like that.
“I hate you,” I whispered, and it came out thin.
“No, you don’t.”
He grinned once, fast and dark, then guided me away from the dresser.
I went with him, still shaky, still wet, still reaching for him as he walked me backward toward the bed. His jeans hung open at his hips, his hands were firm on me, and every step made the air between us feel hotter.
When the backs of my knees hit the mattress, he eased me down with that same controlled strength. The sheets were cool against my back for all of two seconds before his body came over mine and changed the temperature of everything.
