Page 86 of Stables

“I’m yours, Char. Every piece of me.” Turning her in my arms, I find her puffy lips with mine and do my best to reassure her with my kiss that I’m not going anywhere.

Except out of this tub.

I want to own every inch of her, and I can’t do that confined to this porcelain bowl.

Pinning her to my chest, I lift us both out of the water and reach for the stack of fluffy towels.

It’s almost a repeat of earlier, except now I have her bare skin pressed against me leaving arcs of fire racing through me with each brush.

With the thick terry cloth wrapping her body, I set her on the counter near the sink, then fold down my soaked jeans, careful to leave my boxer-briefs on, and toss the saturated denim over the bar to drip over the drain.

Her sapphire eyes burn into me as she watches, focusing on the thin fabric barely holding back my rigid cock.

If I wasn’t already wet, I’d swear I’m leaking in need for her.

Soon.

I don’t bother drying myself. The boiling in my veins will scorch off the droplets fast enough.

She’s my only priority.

Slipping my palms beneath her arms, I don’t cradle her any more.

I lift her so her legs can wrap my waist and she can feel how hard she makes me.

The heat of her dripping cunt rests fully over my throbbing crotch making her whine and grind her hips as her heels lock in the small of my back.

With a simple flick of my fingers, her bra falls loose when I lie her before me on the mattress.

She’s a shrine to be worshiped at. Beauty and grace with the tantalizing lure of the flush of desire rushing up her pale throat.

My thumbs curl around the thin straps of her dainty panties, but her brows knot briefly as I begin to slide them down, and her hands flutter over the soft auburn curls.

“Let me see my dessert,” I growl, pulling her wrist away. “Don’t deny me.”

Before she can argue, my palms find her knees and I spread her like the delectable picnic she is. Settling between hertrembling thighs, I let my mustache tickle the damp curls. “I’ve been a starving man, Char.”

Her tentative touch drifts lightly over my ear. “You don’t have to—”

The words end in a gasp when I taste her for the first time.

Savoring my way through a long, slow lick, my tongue circles the hard bud of her clit while her quivering calves draw me closer.

It’s as if she’s warring with herself, rocking her greedy cunt against my mouth while her tangled grip in my hair tries to still my movements.

She’s too late. I’m fully addicted. Sweeter than any chocolate, and more refreshing than any tea, I’d die a happy man if this was my last meal.

Her fists churn at the sheets, and with every thrash of her head, her damp locks spread in a fan across the pillow.

“Please,” she pants, her chest rising from the mattress in a hallowed arch.

Her body is the bridge to heaven, and it’s my purpose to make her sing her glorious moans so the angels themselves can hear her.

Faster my tongue flicks over her. I know she’s close from the tremors shivering through her. I can easily reach her beaded nipples. Filling my palms, I squeeze them both until her entire torso levitates from the blanket and a wash of juices squirt over my jaw.

Oh, my girlisspecial.

Her arm flings over her eyes. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.” She tries to twist away, but I hold firm.

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