Page 43 of His Wild Attraction

Andres lifted his face, his stormy eyes blazing with lust.

“Do it. Fuck my face, and make yourself come,” he growled.

Then he did it again.

Andres made his tongue hard and tight against my clit, one big hand circled my hip holding me tight to him while he speared my pussy with two thick fingers.

I was mindless with need. But I knew what he wanted me to do. And I wanted it, too.

Heat.

So much of it. Dark, dirty, wet heat filled me.

Fueling my desire.

I reached for him, holding his head as I flexed my hips.

Chasing my orgasm, I rocked my core against his face, rubbing my clit on his tongue and loving every second of it.

I couldn’t believe I was really doing that.

That I, Ellie Maxwell, the last person in the world to incite passion in a man, was doing just as my new husband demanded.

Even more unbelievable, I felt incredible.

Powerful. In control. Strong. And sexy.

I never thought I could let go with someone like that.

But I did.

With him.

A long, keening moan spilled from my lips as I fucked my husband’s face.

He was everywhere. He was everything.

Lapping at my cunt. Praising me with his moans. Making me squirm and writhe like a wanton thing.

I came apart harder than ever before.

Sharp shards of pleasure sliced through me, pleasure so powerful it was on the brink of pain, and I knew this was something phenomenal.

This surely wasn’t normal. My reaction to him was not normal.

How could I feel so good because of one person’s attentions?

Never. I never experienced anything like it.

I’d never been the focus of one man’s mission to deliver physical pleasure.

It was foreign. Filthy. And so fucking good.

He made me feel so good.

It was even a little scary, because even though I just came harder than ever before, I wanted to feel it again.

Right now. With him.

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