Page 105 of The Thought of You

“Be loud, angel.” I spread her legs farther apart and thrust my tongue deeper into her before pulling out again. “I want to hear how good I make you feel. If you want more, I need to know how crazy you are for me.”

“Yes, yes—whatever you want, Owen.” She delves her fingers into my hair and shoves me back into position. “I just need more. Give me more. Please.”

“That’s it,” I whisper, then blow cool air onto her heat.

Her hips buck. “Oh, God!”

“That’s exactly it.” I smirk and get back to the relentless strokes of my tongue, savoring every taste and sensual sound leaving her parted lips.

Her quick breaths grow in volume and speed, like she’s just finished a marathon.

Her legs clench around my head.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Her moans rival that in any adult film I’ve ever watched.

Addie’s sensational as a long cry rips from her throat, and her climax coats my tongue and chin. She keeps coming, her body writhing on the dining table, and her hand slips to the side, knocking over a water.

Neither of us moves.

Not until she’s finished.

By the time she straightens her spine again, her bra has shifted to the side, one nipple halfway exposed.

The side of her head is dotted with sweat.

Her nostrils flare with satisfaction, but there’s a glint of desire still lingering in her blue eyes—that, and mischief. She’s definitely not finished with me, which works out magnificently.

Addie claws at my shoulders and arms, urging me to stand. I rise as she drops onto her feet, and when I open my mouth to ask what’s next, she renders me completely fucking speechless.

She cups me between my legs, clutching my throbbing cock in her palm. “My turn to feast.”

chapter

thirty-three

ADDIE

I rotate us around, spinning on my heels like I do while dancing with a partner, and I push him back until he rests against the edge of the table.

Then I sink onto my knees in front of him, grabbing hold of his zipper on my way down.

Owen’s sharp, echoing inhale feels like a megaphone captured the sound of it, and it fuels my movements.

I move faster as desperation colors my vision.

I’ve only ever done this to one other guy before. I’ve never had much of a desire to do it, especially since most of the guys I’ve been with were hardly generous in return.

Not like Owen.

He’s always selfless. He’s equal parts tender and firm, and I suddenly have the overwhelming urge to make him feel as good as he makes me feel.

Once he springs loose from his jeans, drool threatens to dribble from my mouth.

“Is this seriously happening?” he whispers under his breath, as if he’s talking to himself.

But I answer, anyway. “Almost.” I narrow my eyes as I reach for the can of whipped cream by his foot. It must’ve fallen off the table when I was previously on top of it.

I pop the top off and squirt it on him, beginning at the base of his veiny shaft and drawing a line up to the tip, where I swirl a healthy dose.

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