Page 38 of Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love 3)
I yanked my pants up just enough to walk, and swept Jillian off her feet in case she tried to argue. “We made a bargain, remember? And I intend to hold up my end of it.”
She swatted my chest as I carried her into her bedroom. “You can hold up any end you want later. Let’s have dinner first.”
“No fucking way.” I tossed her onto the bed and quickly zipped up my pants. “I want something better than dinner.”
In no mood to be patient, I shoved her skirt up to her waist, pushed her knees apart and knelt down between them. She wore sheer white panties that matched the bra, and I couldn’t resist leaving them on. I put my lips between her thighs, letting her feel my breath on her skin, just like she’d done to me. My mouth watered. I reached up to touch her breasts, teasing her nipples into stiff pink peaks through the thin material, pinching them gently.
She made a little sound of frustration. “Harder.”
I did what she said, gratified by her satisfied moan. Keeping my fingers there, I put my mouth on her, devouring her through the sheer panties. When they were completely soaked, I yanked them down her legs.
She pulled one foot out and left them looped around her other ankle. “You’re right, this is better than dinner.”
“So much better.” I stroked up through her center and circled her clit with my tongue. “Hotter. Sweeter.” I
swept my tongue from bottom to top again, weaving it from side to side, before sucking her clit. “Tastier.”
Jillian brought her knees up, lifting her heels in the air. I grabbed her ankles, flicking her clit with the tip of my tongue.
“Yes,” she breathed, lifting her hips. “You’re so good.”
“You want to come?” I asked her.
“Yes. I want you to fuck me.”
My dick was hard again, and I could have, but I wanted something else. I got on the bed next to her and flipped her on top of me so her knees were on either side of my chest.
She looked down at me. “You want me on top?”
“Yeah. Of my face.”
“What?” She tried to scoot down, but I pushed her up and locked my arms around her thighs, so she straddled my face, tight.
She gasped, trying to move off me. “You won’t be able to breathe!”
But my arms had her pinned, so there wasn’t anything she could do about it, and she fell forward, bracing her hands above my head. A moment later my tongue was pushing inside her, and within seconds she began to grind against me, unable to hold back. Loosening my hold, I put my hands on her ass, and she circled her hips. Fuck, the way she moved, the way she tasted, the way she gasped for air—I couldn’t get enough. Then she sat all the way up and took her breasts in her hands, playing with her nipples, pinching them the way I had. She looked down at me, her mouth open, eyes wild with desire. It was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen. I moaned and she began to move faster, riding my mouth hard, her breath escaping her in anguished cries. “God, Levi—don’t stop—right there—yes, yes, yes—”
Her body went still and I pulled her tighter to my face, ravaging her with my mouth. She screamed long and hard as her clit pulsed against my tongue, and I didn’t stop until she begged me to.
“Please! Mercy!” she said, half laughing, half serious. She fell forward, catching herself on her hands above my head. “I can’t take any more.”
I helped her wiggle down my body and sat up, holding her on my lap, her knees on either side of me. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks were pink, and she couldn’t catch her breath. “You OK?”
“Yes. I think so.” She shivered. “That was intense.”
“Good.”
She pressed her lips to mine. Then she giggled. “Your face smells like my essential oil.”
“I fucking love it. I can’t get enough.”
Tipping her head onto my shoulder, she buried her face in my neck. “I know the feeling.”
I threw on some jeans and a top and met him up in the kitchen, where he was unpacking the grocery bags. This is so nice, seeing him at home in my kitchen. My romantic history involved a few short flings, one extended disaster, and the occasional one-night hookup, but I’d never lived with anyone or gotten so comfortable with someone that he’d stayed over a lot. Watching Levi work in my kitchen gave me a little kick.
“Hope there’s no ice cream in here,” I said, peeking into one of the brown paper sacks.
Levi pulled out a loaf of French bread. “Nope. I like ice cream cones, but they are not beard-friendly.”
