Page 141 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

He groans when I grind my ass against his front and gives in, slipping his fingers beneath my shorts.

“Colter,” I moan.

My chest shudders. “Tell me what you want,” he croons. He brushes over my clit and down to my pussy, where he slowly enters a finger inside me. “So wet for me already.”

“Please,” I beg.

“You have to tell me, baby.”

“I want you. I need you,” I blurt out, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

He moves down the bed until he’s positioned between my legs.

“I think we should skip dinner,” he says, and my eyes fly open, thinking he wants to stop again.

“Why?” The concern in my voice is evident, and he smiles.

He reaches for the waistband of my shorts and tugs them down my legs, along with my panties, in one fell swoop.

“I’ve already decided I want you for dinner.” His eyes are locked between my legs, his large palms pressing my thighs open.

He has me right where he wants me. One swipe of his tongue and I’m sent into another orbit. I don’t give a fuck about anything but wanting more of him.

My eyes roll shut when he flicks his tongue over my clit and slowly slips one finger into me. I moan, knowing without a doubt it won’t compare to his actual size.

I slip my fingers into his hair, grinding my pussy against his face as my pleas grow louder and longer. I’m already trying to catch my breath when he pulls away, and I stare in awe as he pushes his shorts to the floor, and his dick bounces free.

My eyes widen when he wraps his hand around his impressive length, and I realize every assumption I had was true. His hand tightens around the tip, speeding up his movements, and my mouth is watering with how much I want to taste him.

“If you keep dragging your lip between your teeth like you’re fighting the urge to taste me, I don’t know if I’ll be able to take my time like I want.”

“You want to know what I want?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.

“Always.”

I bite the edge of my lip, taunting him, and spread my legs wide while brushing my fingers over my clit. His nostrils flare, and he grunts, my name intermixed with the sound.

“I want you to fuck me,” I mutter. “And I don’t want you to stop.”

He grabs a condom from his nightstand and rolls it on before he resumes his position between my legs, lining the tip up at my entrance. My body stiffens when I feel him start to push his way inside me.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He squeezes his eyes shut. I groan, and he must hear the edge of my pain. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit, and I promise it’ll feel so fuckin’ good.”

He leans over me, and something is so passionate and powerful about having our eyes locked as he enters me.

“I’m almost there,” he says before thrusting deep.

I wrap my arms around his back, digging my nails into his skin, and he hisses.

“Relax, baby. Try to relax and tell me when I can move.”

As my breathing evens out, I nod, and when he pulls out and thrusts back in, the pain fades away, and the pleasure takes over. I wrap my legs around his waist, forcing him deeper.

“You want to know what I want?” he whispers.

He wraps his arms around me and brings me with him when he leans back on his haunches until I’m straddling his lap.

I wrap my arms around his neck, bringing his mouth closer. “Tell me.”

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