Page 54 of Sweet Ache (Driven 6)
I’m an it takes time for me to come girl but hell if he just hasn’t blown that all to smithereens because the way his mouth is working my clit mixed with the slow slide of his fingers in and out has me climbing that peak faster than ever before. I can’t catch my thoughts when usually I’m having to push them away as his tongue owns every inch of sensitized flesh between my folds.
The room fills with the commands he vocalizes, the vibration of his voice only adding to his delicious torment, my labored breathing and the slick sound of my wetness being expertly manipulated. My body begins to tense, that slow flush of heat beginning to bathe my body in its warm glow as my orgasm rises from the depths of my body. I start moving my hips, grinding back and forth onto his fingers and tongue, his previous decree of edging me out lost in my quest for release, so just as I can feel it wash over me, all movement from him ceases.
I gasp out and squeeze my eyes shut to try to will my orgasm to fruition, but without my hands or his, nothing’s going to happen.
“Hawkin!” I say his name like a curse into the sexed-up air and it earns me a taunting laugh from him.
I clench my muscles, desperate for so much more of him than just this orgasm. The thought scares me momentarily but I can’t think about it right now. I need to focus on the here and now and not the mess my heart will inevitably be in after he casts me aside.
I step back from where he’s positioned between the confines of my legs and his hands slide up the outside of my thighs to my hips to my waist as he stands. He reaches my neck, and I look up and meet his gaze for the first time in what feels like forever since we arrived at my house.
The look in his eyes—burning desire and the wild need to sate it—makes me feel like he wants to take every single part of me, memorize me, use me, and then start all over again, and hell if I’m not down with this game. I want his kiss, his body on top of mine, his hands braced on either side of my head while he’s driving into me.
And I want it now.
I step forward this time, my flanks into his, his legs pressed against the edge of the bed, and we just stand there. Our torsos are touching chests to thighs, our breaths mingle, and our eyes speak a language exclusively our own. I want you. Take me now. Fuck me. Wreck me. Make me yours.
A mutual exchange of needs and desires that I initiate when I lean into him and brush my lips to his. His hands slide around my back and pull me into him harder as our mouths part and tongues unite. I feel my heart slip a little toward the edge of no return and lose myself in the taste of my pleasure on his tongue and how there’s something so strangely arousing about it that I just want more of what he’s offering me. His hands move over my bared skin like his tongue does—skillful, urgent, a little rough, and a lot needy—and hell if the mixture of motions isn’t a potent cocktail of desire that we’re getting drunk on.
He groans my name into my mouth. I want to pull away, strip off his boxer briefs, and taste him, but right now he’s savoring me and there’s something endearing about it. As much as I want to order him to give me what I want like he has me, it’s not possible because my independent streak is out the damn window right along with my control.
I’m all for equality between a man and a woman but right now this woman doesn’t care about being equal, she just wants to come.
I know without a doubt that Hawkin owns the keys to that toe-curling orgasm I’ve been without for some time and hell if I’m not going to submit so he can find the lock and use his key to unleash it.
Our kiss grows possessive. I writhe against him, trying to tell him that I need him to push me off that ledge I’m walking precariously on just like he said I would be. His hands slide down my biceps and remove my tank top from my elbows.
And the minute my arms are released from their cotton confines, it’s on.
My hands go immediately to the back of his neck, fingers tugging in his hair, pulling him into me. My hands match the urgency of his and yet we still stand there and express our desire with our hands and mouths when so many other men would have already been in, out, and done by now.
I snake one of my hands down his abdomen and slip it inside his underwear. I find his dick immediately, it’s hard to miss it really, and the minute my fingers encircle his girth, a pained groan falls from his mouth. His hands leave my skin momentarily as he pushes the fabric down to grant me unhindered access to pleasure him.
My fingers dance over the length of his shaft, causing our lips to part and his head to fall back as he absorbs my reciprocal foreplay. I lean forward and kiss the underside of his jaw. He tastes of salt and soap and the scent sears itself into my memory as my tongue licks and hand slides back and forth over his cock.
“Quin.” I love the grate of his voice over my name, desperate and defiant.
“Get ready to beg,” I murmur against his skin, rough with his five o’clock shadow, tossing his comment back to him. His body falters a moment, a strained but amused laugh falling from his lips that turns into a groan of desire when I gently scrape my nails over the underside of his dick.
His hands find my shoulders and grip tightly as he tilts his head down so he can meet my gaze, a chiding smile on his lips and everything I want reflected in his eyes. “Sweetness, as much as I want you to wrap your mouth around my dick and make me beg for it, you can take me there next time because right now, I want you,” he says, his tongue wetting his lower lip and distracting me from focusing on the fact that he said next time. And telling me there will be an again when he hasn’t even had me yet makes places in me stir that have nothing to do with having an orgasm. “And I’m going to have you.” He says the last statement on a melodic whisper that reminds me of the song earlier but this time he’s not on stage in front of thousands of women, he’s standing here in front of me.
I breathe in deeply, needing the air to help clear my head, and all it does is the opposite because it smells like him. I keep my hands on his dick but with my eyes on him, lean forward and take the flat disk of one of his nipples in my mouth and graze my teeth over it. He hisses in a breath, eyes darkening with lust as my own taunt him to do just what he’s promised, to take me.
Two can play this game. My hand slides up and down him again, his dick pulsing in my hand from the stimulation. “What are you waiting for, Hawkin?”
I take a step back slowly, my eyes running up and down his body, my first time getting to see the whole of him. And holy mother of God … if Hawkin Play fully clothed is hot, a naked one is breathtaking. And being a man used to women staring at him, he stands still and lets me get my visual porn.
His shoulders are strong, pecs and abs defined but more from constant physical activity than a guy who lifts for bulk, and in the moonlight I can see the basic outlines of the shapes of his tattoos but not make them out. My eyes go lower, trace the V down to where he demonstrates just how ready he is for me, and hell if he’s not packing what Luke claimed to have.
The unbidden part of me doesn’t care that he knows I’m openly staring at him so I lift my eyes ever so slowly up to meet his. He walks toward me, his body announcing the predator inside him ready to take what he thinks is his. His eyes are hungry, smirk arrogant, and body made for the kind of sins I enjoy committing.
My only thought is that I need to hold on tight because I have a feeling Hawkin Play is about to take me for a ride in more ways than one, and I just hope both my body and my heart will be able to handle it. I’ve been able to separate sex and emotion with men prior to tonight, but I know right here, right now, with that look in his eyes and that purpose in his posture, that there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to with him.
“Bed’s this way,” he says with a lift of his chin over his shoulder as he stops in front of me and reaches out to my hips and pulls me into him. Skin against skin. His erection presses deliciously between the V of my thighs, making my mouth water and my legs weak with thoughts of everything that’s about to happen.
“Rest assured, I know where my bed is, Hawkin.”
“Then why are you not on it?” The heat of his breath feathers over my lips as I fight every urge in my body to continue our banter when all I want is him and me rolling around on the bed.
