Page 46 of Puck & Make Up

When it’s bunched up just beneath my breasts, he shifts again, giving it one quick tug and pulling it over my head.

The fabric flies across the room and then he’s reaching beneath me, undoing the clasp of my bra, tugging the straps down my shoulders, my arms, tossing that scrap of material to the side just as quickly as he’d done my shirt.

“Fuck,” he growls, “you’re beautiful.”

And I’ve never felt more so.

It’s impossible to do anything but believe those words with the desire etched into his expression, the need blazing through his eyes, the gentle, reverent way he touches me.

One big palm cups my breast, kneading my flesh.

“Oh, God,” I moan when his thumb traces over the hardened bud of my nipple. He rolls it between thumb and forefinger, putting those roughened fingertips to good use and I can’t hold still. I grind against him, riding the hard ridge of his erection, feeling my pleasure build to almost desperate levels.

I’m ready to explode.

Need for this man, need formore—it tears through me.

I have to get naked, have to touch him, have to feel him inside me.

Luckily, he seems to read that desperation in me and drops his head, kissing his way along my jaw, down my throat, pausing at my breasts.

“These tits are fuckingmine.”

He sucks at my nipple, sending wave after wave of pleasure through me and my fingers dive into his hair, holding his mouth against me, keeping him there, soaking in the sensation—the heat of his mouth, the rough stroke of his beard on my skin, the flash of his teeth, the soothing stroke of his tongue.

I gasp as he switches sides.

Rubbing that beard along the underside of my breast, pinching my nipple hard enough to make me gasp then assuaging the sting with his tongue. It’s teeth and lips, touch and teasing, but nothurry.

Because he even though desire is ripping through me,he’snot in any rush. He takes his time worshiping my breasts slowly before kissing his way down my abdomen, inch by inch.

A flick opens the button of my jeans.

A nudge pushes them down, down,off.

And then his fingertips are playing with the waistband of my underwear, drawing it down an inch, kissing the exposed flesh before coaxing it down another inch. Then another, another,another. Until I’m completely exposed to him.

He parts my legs, tossing one over each shoulder, and?—

His tongue traces through my folds, a sleek, hot brand that arrows in on where I need him the most.

“Fuck,” he rasps, eyes blazing into mine. “Sweet, so fucking sweet.”

And then he goes back to ravaging my pussy with his mouth, putting his beard to good use, dragging it over my sensitive flesh. His tongue circles my clit and he nibbles, lightly teasing that sensitive bud with his teeth, ratcheting my pleasure even higher.

Every muscle in my body is taut.

Every cell is on knife’s edge.

My lungs are heaving. My eyes are unfocused, my thighs are squeezing so tightly around his neck and shoulders that he might not be able to breathe, but I can’t bring myself to loosen my hold, can’t do anything but stay poised on that narrow edge when he slides a finger inside me.

It’s thick and hard, and he curls it up, stroking against the inner walls of my pussy.

I shudder, that pleasure closing in.

“Fox,” I plead, not wanting to go without him.

“No, sugar.” He slips another finger in and orders, “Come,” thrusting hard and deep inside of me…

---