Page 72 of Her Filthy Mistake

“Yes.” I rock back and forth, slamming my sex over his mouth, grinding and rotating my hips as the tension builds. He slides his hand up my body, shoves my bra upward, and tugs hard on my nipple.

“Oh, fuck. Yes. Yes. Yes.” The words come out of my mouth in a chant as I clasp my thighs so hard on his face that his hand drops to my leg, but instead of letting go, he continues his tongue, lashing as fireworks flash in my brain.

I ride through the most amazing orgasm I’ve ever had, and then, I’m coming again. Liquid spasms rack my body as my heart races in my chest.

What is happening? He continues to feast on me as wave after wave of jerking leads to more flooding of his face. Heat crawls up my chest, along my neck, and over my cheeks. This has never happened. Is he? Does he? But he doesn’t relent in his quest to pleasure me.

He deposits me on my hands and knees, crawls behind me, presses his hand into my upper back until my face is flush with the mattress, and slams his dick to the hilt. With each inward lunge, my face slides across the mattress, and his intensity turns frenzied. I gasp and chant as I fist the comforter.

“This pussy is so fucking fine.” He slaps my ass, causing me to squeal, which only increases his hasty movements. His breath comes in matching pants, with his thighs slapping me.

So good. So deep. So–

He spits between my ass cheeks and twirls his index finger over my tight, puckered hole. The sensation sends a bolt of electricity throughout my body. God, I want this. I want whatever this man does to me. His finger fills my forbidden hole. “Oh, my God, yes. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

“Not. On. Your. Fucking. Life.” He punctuates his words as he pounds into me. The friction of both holes being filled and my tits scraping on the sheet sends me over the edge once more.

“Yes. Please. So fucking good.” The words come out in a hoarse scream as my body tries to reject his. But he doesn’t relent, only batters into me like a jackhammer. This time when the squirting shoots out around his pistoning dick, I don’t freak out and ride the waves instead. My hips thrash as tears stream down my cheeks.

“Fuck!” he grunts as his body stiffens and hot cum fills my center until my core is drenched and soaking my thighs.

We both collapse on the bed, gasping and staring at the ceiling. Finally, when I catch my breath, I glance over at him as his eyes burn into mine. “Well, I guess they’re right about hydration and squirting, but I’m not sure I have enough time to get an IV every day.”

He laughs and wraps his arms around me. “Remind me to buy you a two-liter bottle of water instead.”

Chapter Forty-One

Zoe

After we finished showering and eating dinner, we were snuggled on the sofa, watching a movie, when I remembered the record contract. Now that I’ve eaten, I don’t feel like I have lead weights holding me down. Between the life-altering orgasms and the sweltering hot shower steam, it felt like a bulldozer had run over me.

I stretch, turning sideways on the sofa, and so I can see his expression. “I talked to Ethan James today.” I frown. “Or yesterday, at this point.”

“Yeah, what did he say?”

He lays his arm on the back of the sofa and runs small circles to my upper arm with this thumb. At this point, wearing anything more than a tank top and sleep shorts seems like a reach. Jace tossed on a pair of my brother’s black jogging shorts that he left behind the last time he visited.

“He wants you to come in next week to sign a contract.”

“Whoa.” His eyes are enormous as he soaks in the information. Seconds pass, but he doesn’t move.

“Are you in there?” I wave my hand in front of his face.

“Yeah.” He grabs my hand, and absentmindedly squeezes it, and then places his lips against the back of my fingers. “I don’t know what to say.” He blinks. “I guess I have to think about it.”

I tilt my head and study him. “Why?”

He wraps his arms around me and cradles me to his chest, with my leg straddling his muscular thigh. “Well, it’s all different now. When I was in the band, that’s all I wanted, but now I don’t know if that’s the direction I want to go.” He kisses my temple. “I mean. I want to sing, and getting a label would be the ultimate cherry on top, but I want to dictate when I perform, how often, and where. It’s just different. I don’t need adoring fans screaming my name or girls tossing their panties at me. I want to be a legitimate artist. And as long as you’re dropping your panties for me, my life is complete.”

“Okay. I think he’d be amenable. You’re not a punk kid, so he has to take that into consideration.” I stroke his skin and relax against him. Not that I was worried he’d jump right into the asshole rock lifestyle but hearing him explain what he wants now versus before warms my heart.

“Is that a crack at my age?” His voice is a deep growl that curls low in my belly.

“Not at all.” I lift my head and stare in awe at his face. It’s surreal. My teenage crush is right here in front of me. And he loves me.

“Good.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Besides, I want to raise a family in a stable home and not jet-setting all over the place. Maybe ten to twelve weeks in the summer, an album in the early spring, and every few years or so do a few shows around Christmas. How does that sound?”

“I love it. That sounds perfect.”

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