Read Online Beauty and the Geek (Gone Geek Book 1) by Sidney Bristol - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sidney Bristol
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he wanted, what she’d offered. “God, I think about you fucking me all the time. There. Oh.”
Stephen pushed his other hand under her shirt, palming her breast. Damn the stupid push-up bra. She wanted to feel his skin on hers. The way he teased her, how he’d drive her to insanity. He was too thorough, too purposeful to do anything he didn’t mean to.
“You really are my slut.” His words were uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure of the statement.
But she was.
She loved those words, the implication that between them anything was okay. That she was his. She nearly orgasmed from the statement alone.
“Yes, oh, fuck yes. I’ll be your anything.” She placed one foot against the wall and shifted, seeking a different angle.
He pinned her against the wall, bracing her there with his weight, working his fingers deeper. She was his. His mouth covered hers, his tongue invading her with the same authoritative thrust as his fingers. Branding her with his touch.
The only way this could be better was if they were naked, his cock inside of her.
Stephen tore his mouth from hers, his pale gaze focused on hers.
“Come on my fingers. Do it. My slut.”
She shuddered at the last word, a cascade of pleasure spiraling through her so intense it left her weak in the knees, her head spinning. She sagged against him, her forehead on his shoulder, little tremors of pleasure threatening to send her to the floor.
For a moment neither of them moved.
She heard his heart beat racing in one ear, and their mingled pants with her other.
“Tamara?” He gently pulled his hand from her panties, sparing a moment to ensure they were up and on.
How sweet. And thoughtful. She wasn’t used to sweet and thoughtful, but she could learn to like it.
“Hm?” He wanted to talk? Now? Really? She couldn’t form words.
“Are you…was that, okay?” He sounded so uncertain, so very unlike the man she’d come to appreciate who seemed to simply know everything.
“Totally.” She tightened her arm around his neck, nuzzling him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever called anyone that before and…I just you’re sure?”
She leaned back, grateful to the wall and him for propping her up.
“Does it bother you?” She slid her hands down his chest, ready to see him in the flesh. All of him.
“It’s a word with connotations.”
“Do you like calling me your slut?” She walked her fingers down his sides. “Knowing how wet you make me? That you’re the only man I think about?”
He paused to consider her questions, that big, wonderful brain of his breaking down his answer. “I liked it more than I expected.”
“Say it then. Call me your slut.” She grinned. The professor had a naughty side. A really naughty side.
“You like dirty talk.”
“I do. I could never really get into it during chats. Not just anyone gets to call me—”
“Their slut?” He placed his hand at the base of her throat. He didn’t squeeze, he just held it there.
“Yeah.”
“You’d kick their ass.” His thumb caressed the length of her throat.
“I would. What do you think of that?”
“It’s hot.” He hadn’t once denied or challenged that she was every bit as proficient as she claimed to be. It was…refreshing. She didn’t have to prove her abilities to him. He simply accepted what she said at face value. It was a measure of the trust she hadn’t lost.
“How hard are you?” She stroked him through the denim.
“Hard enough to pound nails.”
“Oh, yeah? You should pound me instead.”
He leaned against her a little harder, their lips almost touching. She grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. He stepped back and discarded the shirt.
“Ho-ly shit.” She splayed her hands on his chest, her fingers tracing the line of a tattoo that spanned from his jeans up to his shoulders. “Is that…”
“Optimus Prime.”
“I love it.”
Tamara grasped the front of his pants, tabbing them open. There’d be
Stephen pushed his other hand under her shirt, palming her breast. Damn the stupid push-up bra. She wanted to feel his skin on hers. The way he teased her, how he’d drive her to insanity. He was too thorough, too purposeful to do anything he didn’t mean to.
“You really are my slut.” His words were uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure of the statement.
But she was.
She loved those words, the implication that between them anything was okay. That she was his. She nearly orgasmed from the statement alone.
“Yes, oh, fuck yes. I’ll be your anything.” She placed one foot against the wall and shifted, seeking a different angle.
He pinned her against the wall, bracing her there with his weight, working his fingers deeper. She was his. His mouth covered hers, his tongue invading her with the same authoritative thrust as his fingers. Branding her with his touch.
The only way this could be better was if they were naked, his cock inside of her.
Stephen tore his mouth from hers, his pale gaze focused on hers.
“Come on my fingers. Do it. My slut.”
She shuddered at the last word, a cascade of pleasure spiraling through her so intense it left her weak in the knees, her head spinning. She sagged against him, her forehead on his shoulder, little tremors of pleasure threatening to send her to the floor.
For a moment neither of them moved.
She heard his heart beat racing in one ear, and their mingled pants with her other.
“Tamara?” He gently pulled his hand from her panties, sparing a moment to ensure they were up and on.
How sweet. And thoughtful. She wasn’t used to sweet and thoughtful, but she could learn to like it.
“Hm?” He wanted to talk? Now? Really? She couldn’t form words.
“Are you…was that, okay?” He sounded so uncertain, so very unlike the man she’d come to appreciate who seemed to simply know everything.
“Totally.” She tightened her arm around his neck, nuzzling him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever called anyone that before and…I just you’re sure?”
She leaned back, grateful to the wall and him for propping her up.
“Does it bother you?” She slid her hands down his chest, ready to see him in the flesh. All of him.
“It’s a word with connotations.”
“Do you like calling me your slut?” She walked her fingers down his sides. “Knowing how wet you make me? That you’re the only man I think about?”
He paused to consider her questions, that big, wonderful brain of his breaking down his answer. “I liked it more than I expected.”
“Say it then. Call me your slut.” She grinned. The professor had a naughty side. A really naughty side.
“You like dirty talk.”
“I do. I could never really get into it during chats. Not just anyone gets to call me—”
“Their slut?” He placed his hand at the base of her throat. He didn’t squeeze, he just held it there.
“Yeah.”
“You’d kick their ass.” His thumb caressed the length of her throat.
“I would. What do you think of that?”
“It’s hot.” He hadn’t once denied or challenged that she was every bit as proficient as she claimed to be. It was…refreshing. She didn’t have to prove her abilities to him. He simply accepted what she said at face value. It was a measure of the trust she hadn’t lost.
“How hard are you?” She stroked him through the denim.
“Hard enough to pound nails.”
“Oh, yeah? You should pound me instead.”
He leaned against her a little harder, their lips almost touching. She grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. He stepped back and discarded the shirt.
“Ho-ly shit.” She splayed her hands on his chest, her fingers tracing the line of a tattoo that spanned from his jeans up to his shoulders. “Is that…”
“Optimus Prime.”
“I love it.”
Tamara grasped the front of his pants, tabbing them open. There’d be
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