Page 45 of Tempting

Rather than ripping them off her like I want to, I run what’s left of the ice cream over the lips of her pussy through the lace of her panties. This time, Mac’s back bows off the counter, and her fingers tug at my hair as she moans my name.

I drop the spoon and push her thighs open.

Drunk off her taste and high off her smell, I throw her legs over my shoulders and drag my tongue up the length of her pussy through the lacy fabric.

“Ohh, just like that.” she moans, and it’s breathy and sexy and exactly what I want to hear from her. So I flatten my tongue and do it again. And again. And again.

I eat her through her soaked panties until she’s a squirming, shaking, needy mess.

Until she’s begging me for more and screaming my name.

My cock throbs in my pants as I finally rip the lace from her body and shove it in my pocket.

Her knees clamp tight against my head when I run a finger along the length of her sex, then slide it inside her, feeling her tighten around me. The sound she makes is mind-blowing, I unzip my pants and take my cock in my other hand and stroke myself as I feast on Mac.

The taste of her on my tongue is better than I could have ever imagined, and I fucking imagined this a lot over the years.

When I pull my finger out, she cries out from the loss until I trail it around her clit, just like she did the other night. “You like that, Mac? You like the way I fuck you with my tongue?”

She moans and tugs on my hair, trying to force me back where she needs me.

“Words, Mac.” I quickly smack her pussy, and she moans as her body trembles beneath me.

“I fucking love the way you fucked me with your tongue. I love the way you licked me.” I slide a finger back in, and she moans again. “And fingered me.” I add another finger.

“What else do you want?” I growl, desperate for my own release.

“Pinch it... I want you to pinch my clit,” she begs.

I lean down and suck her swollen little clit between my lips, then scrape my teeth over it and bite it just enough... and tug.

Mackenzie comes, screaming my name and soaking my face as I jerk my cock one final time, thinking I’ll never get enough of her.

KENZIE

Crying is not a sign of weakness.

Since the minute you were born it’s been a sign of life.

—Kenzie’s Secret Thoughts

Nixon carries me into the shower after our lesson, holding me like the most delicate piece of fine china, and I let him. Probably another ding on my independent woman card, but I’ll take the hit if it means I get to stay like this for a little longer.

I let him hold me. My body completely sated and relaxed, I surrender myself over to this foreign feeling. Relishing in it. And maybe enjoying that Nixon was the man to give it to me.

He stands me in front of the shower and turns on all six shower heads. Once he’s satisfied with the temperature and the room fills with steam, Nix shoves down his jeans and boxer briefs, and my breath catches in my chest.

Nixon Sinclair is well-endowed.

I mean, he’s big.

A god among men—massive, and I studied anatomy in college, med school, and residency. I can safely say he’s not the norm.

My initial thought is, Holy shit, is that going to fit?

But then my scientific brain kicks in, and I know it will fit. It’ll just hurt like a bitch.

He cups my face in his hands and smirks. “Don’t worry, beautiful. It will fit.”

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