Page 48 of Perfect Praise

Itwashard. And fuck, if I’m not melting at the acknowledgment that I never get in any other parts of my life.

His lips back on mine feel electrified, and I’ve been missing them every second for weeks.

He pulls back to watch his fingers play across the upper curve of my breasts until they drop to my hips and grind me over his hard-on.

“Shit,” I whisper at the same time he growls, “Fuck.”

“I’m going to ruin these pretty thighs.” He presses his fingertips into my inner thighs and claws his way down them, I assume leaving four marks along each because it hurts in a good way. “Tell me if I say or do anything you’re not into. Say no.” I nod, but he pushes me. “Use your words. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I’ll tell you.”

I’m glowing as he gathers my hair in his hands, and his lips find their way back to mine. He bites my lower lip as he slips the straps of my dress down my arms and tugs the top of my dress down to my waist.

My nipples are already hard, but the breeze over the water sends shivers straight from them to between my legs. Locke pinches them between his thumbs and index fingers.

He moans into my mouth, pulls back, and widens his legs. “I’m going to show you how good I can make you feel with words. Get on your knees for me.”

Hearing that surprises me, though this is what I want. Maybe it’s the surprise of realizing how the tone of his voice could control me, because right now he sounds sweet. I didn’t think Locke was capable of sweet.

I slip down his body, still topless, and position myself in between his legs. There’s just enough room for me to fit, but if I lean back too far, the steering wheel jabs into my back.

He tucks my hair behind my ear as I rub his erection over his pants. My mouth is watering at the thought that it will be full of his cock in a matter of seconds and how lucky I am to somehow be in this position. Locke is letting me in in a really small way, and I’ll take whatever I can get.

The metal button of his pants slips out easily, and I zip them down. He raises his hips so I can tug his pants and boxers downslightly.

My eyes widen when I take him in my hand, proud of myself for doing this to him, making him this hard. I let my thumb memorize every curve and vein, how he feels in my hand.

“Are you overwhelmed?” he asks softly, watching me.

I can’t comprehend his confidence, the confidence I don’t have. “A little.”

“Good,” he says. “Everything is for you, not me, because you deserve it all.” His voice snaps from sweet to rough. “Now, eyes on me. I want to see how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth.”

I lick him from bottom to top before I wrap my lips around him,forhim, because every fiber in my body wants to show him I can be pretty; that I can be enough for him.

He’s warm, and I can feel him pulsing against my tongue. I use my hand and mouth in a steady rhythm until I’ve gotten used to his size. I let my saliva run down him when I take him deeper, and he groans. I’m so wet I’m squirming in the small space, trying to find a release that doesn’t exist.

Locke places a hand on either side of my head as my mouth works over him. “I know you can take it deeper than that, Maren.” He pushes up with his hips. “Breathe for me.”

I listen, taking a breath through my nose as I open my throat and take him to the point where I’m just about to gag. He holds my head there, but I push myself, because I know how much he’ll like it when I try harder for him, and force him farther down my throat. I choke and splutter, spit running from my mouth and tears welling in my eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispers, sliding a hand around my neck and squeezing gently. “Listen to those pretty sounds you’re making when you’re my good little slut.”

An unintentional but appreciative moan escapes from my full throat, and my thong is soaked. I’m realizing I’ve never been that ‘slutty’ in bed before, but Ilovebeing a slut for him and, even more so, being rewarded for it. It’s like I can take back that word, rewrite it and make it mean something different to me, a good thing, a positivething—I like sex, and I’m willing to do things with Locke that I’m not okay doing with anyone else. I feel good about myself. Powerful. This is mind shattering, and he hasn’t placed a hand on me.

He seems to sense what I’m thinking when I come up for air. “Look what you’re doing to yourself. So turned on for me. Touch yourself and feel how wet you are.”

My heart pumps into my throat as I slip a hand up underneath my dress and into my thong.

The touch alone sends a jolt ricocheting through my body, and my fingers are coated.

Locke watches me wriggle on my knees, trying to get any sort of friction in the tight space. He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “One finger in,” he demands.

“God,” I whimper as it slides in easily. This isn’t nearly enough, but I have no room to move. A frustrated moan slips out when Locke starts playing with my nipples, and I can’t widen my knees between his feet.

He smiles like he knows. “Shh. Listen to how wet you are,” he says, running a thumb over my lips and dipping his head to kiss my neck. “Two fingers.”

I bite my bottom lip, trying to hold in the deranged sounds of pleasure I want to make as a second finger fills me.

---