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Authors: Christine Bell
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between her thighs with a muttered curse. His tongue hit her first, lashing at the straining bud between her thighs, and she bit back a scream.
Chapter Five
Honey. The taste he’d imagined a thousand times was like wild, sweet honey. He could no more stop what he was doing than turn into a real panther, so he was glad to hear her whimper. A good, “give me more of that” kind of whimper.
He was relentless, rubbing his tongue against her swollen clit. “Oh, my gosh,” she muttered, chanting it over and over.
The hands that had been clenched on his shoulders let loose and dove into his hair, gripping so tight that, if he’d had any blood left in his body that hadn’t drained to his cock, it might have hurt.
He grunted his approval of her uninhibited response. This was the Grace he’d known had been in there somewhere. The one that he’d wanted for so long. The Grace that squirmed during the love scenes in a movie in a way that made him want to test her wetness with his hand. The Grace whose eyes had gone wide when they’d seen that couple having sex under the boardwalk the last time they’d taken the dogs for a walk on the beach at sunset.
Maybe thinking about the dogs was a good idea because things were ratcheting up fast, and the taste of her and the feel of her heated flesh against his tongue were making it a close thing.
“Please,” she murmured, this new word breaking her previous chant.
His cocked jerked, and he obliged her happily, sucking the firm bud between his lips and laving it harder with his tongue. She stiffened, the thighs around his waist locking tighter than a boa constrictor. Very nice. The hands he’d been using to bracket her hips slid lower, spreading her wider. Then he sent his finger to join his mouth, easing it into her unresisting heat. Slick and wet, her tight channel clasped his finger, and she went wild, bucking and arching. Her words lost focus and form and disintegrated into meaningless pleas. He kept the pace steady, working her tight pussy in and out in long, even strokes.
She groaned and tossed her head. “Please, it’s…so much.” He pulled back and slipped his finger from her, dialing the intensity back. He hadn’t meant to scare her.
“I want you inside me.”
Okay, so, not scared . She pushed him so hard that he rocked back onto his heels and fell flat onto his ass. She was on him in a second, straddling his hips, rubbing her body all over his. The steamy heat that he’d had his face buried in only moments before pressed against him, and his shoulders tensed. He felt the telltale clench as a drop of fluid leaked from the head of his cock.
“Do you have a condom?” she whispered, all the while sliding her pussy over his shaft in a slippery caress.
His brain was in meltdown, and it took him a beat to understand her words. Did he have one?
“Yeah, in my pants. Wallet.”
She flattened herself over his chest to reach past his shoulder. She nabbed his pants and rifled through them to get his wallet. He was still reeling from the feel of her tits against his chest when it hit him. If she saw his beat up old leather wallet, he was as good as busted. She’d seen it a thousand times before and had suggested he get a new one just the week before. He reached overhead and snagged the pants from her grasp. “Lotta pockets, I got it.”
She nodded and burrowed her hands underneath his shirt while he located his wallet. He abandoned his search to stop her with a hand on her wrist. Things were going from bad to worse.
“I—” He what? What could he possibly say here? The truth was that he didn’t want her to see his naked chest because she might see the scar he had from that time Joey Fabrizzi shot him with a BB gun. They’d spent several days on the beach every summer, and she’d seen his chest many times. Even if it was too steamy to get a good look at the scar, who knew if she’d recognize the rest? Hell, now that he’d seen her breasts, they’d be
Chapter Five
Honey. The taste he’d imagined a thousand times was like wild, sweet honey. He could no more stop what he was doing than turn into a real panther, so he was glad to hear her whimper. A good, “give me more of that” kind of whimper.
He was relentless, rubbing his tongue against her swollen clit. “Oh, my gosh,” she muttered, chanting it over and over.
The hands that had been clenched on his shoulders let loose and dove into his hair, gripping so tight that, if he’d had any blood left in his body that hadn’t drained to his cock, it might have hurt.
He grunted his approval of her uninhibited response. This was the Grace he’d known had been in there somewhere. The one that he’d wanted for so long. The Grace that squirmed during the love scenes in a movie in a way that made him want to test her wetness with his hand. The Grace whose eyes had gone wide when they’d seen that couple having sex under the boardwalk the last time they’d taken the dogs for a walk on the beach at sunset.
Maybe thinking about the dogs was a good idea because things were ratcheting up fast, and the taste of her and the feel of her heated flesh against his tongue were making it a close thing.
“Please,” she murmured, this new word breaking her previous chant.
His cocked jerked, and he obliged her happily, sucking the firm bud between his lips and laving it harder with his tongue. She stiffened, the thighs around his waist locking tighter than a boa constrictor. Very nice. The hands he’d been using to bracket her hips slid lower, spreading her wider. Then he sent his finger to join his mouth, easing it into her unresisting heat. Slick and wet, her tight channel clasped his finger, and she went wild, bucking and arching. Her words lost focus and form and disintegrated into meaningless pleas. He kept the pace steady, working her tight pussy in and out in long, even strokes.
She groaned and tossed her head. “Please, it’s…so much.” He pulled back and slipped his finger from her, dialing the intensity back. He hadn’t meant to scare her.
“I want you inside me.”
Okay, so, not scared . She pushed him so hard that he rocked back onto his heels and fell flat onto his ass. She was on him in a second, straddling his hips, rubbing her body all over his. The steamy heat that he’d had his face buried in only moments before pressed against him, and his shoulders tensed. He felt the telltale clench as a drop of fluid leaked from the head of his cock.
“Do you have a condom?” she whispered, all the while sliding her pussy over his shaft in a slippery caress.
His brain was in meltdown, and it took him a beat to understand her words. Did he have one?
“Yeah, in my pants. Wallet.”
She flattened herself over his chest to reach past his shoulder. She nabbed his pants and rifled through them to get his wallet. He was still reeling from the feel of her tits against his chest when it hit him. If she saw his beat up old leather wallet, he was as good as busted. She’d seen it a thousand times before and had suggested he get a new one just the week before. He reached overhead and snagged the pants from her grasp. “Lotta pockets, I got it.”
She nodded and burrowed her hands underneath his shirt while he located his wallet. He abandoned his search to stop her with a hand on her wrist. Things were going from bad to worse.
“I—” He what? What could he possibly say here? The truth was that he didn’t want her to see his naked chest because she might see the scar he had from that time Joey Fabrizzi shot him with a BB gun. They’d spent several days on the beach every summer, and she’d seen his chest many times. Even if it was too steamy to get a good look at the scar, who knew if she’d recognize the rest? Hell, now that he’d seen her breasts, they’d be
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