Page 81 of Jingle Belle's Biker

It’s like it isn’t me, this fever, this urge. His mouth is the perfect amount of wetand heat, The firmness of his lips, the tease of his tongue, and the tickle of his beard all swirl to form something more than the parts.

Like orgasm.

Like sex.

It consumes, becomes a fever and there’s only him, his mouth, the hardness of his body, his erection that I rock against. His hands on me pull me into him, grind me into him and I want to laugh with sheer sweet emotion as he kisses a trail down my throat and then back to my mouth.

I lick his bottom lip, suck on his tongue, and I grip his head, as his hand comes up to tangle in my hair.

Saint grips it, pulling my head back, breaking the kiss. “I want you to sit on my fucking face, Red.”

Panic shoots through me. We’re on my sofa. I don’t know what to do. I stare at him.

“Jesus, Red, please don’t tell me the men, all of whom I wanna fucking kill, that you’ve fucked haven’t spent their time trying to go down on you as much as humanly possible in a day? Because, you need to know, I’d happily spend a good portion of my life between your thighs. And I’m not fussy.”

He starts stripping me even though I’m still on him, the dress is unzipped and pulled down, bra off.

“I’ll eat you on the floor, against the wall, here on the sofa, you spread out like a banquet, you straddling my face, riding my tongue. Anyhow, anytime, anywhere.”

He pushes me off him and pulls off my shoes, tights, and panties. Saint barely looks at the cotton.

“I . . .”

“You don’t even know how fucking special you are.”

Those words make me slip further into him, into my feelings, that sea of emotion that’s falling in love. And I can’t stop it.He’s not staying, this is just for now. However, my stupid heart doesn’t care.

It just wants. I want.

I look up, and his gaze burns down into me as he pushes me onto my back and parts my knees, edging my legs up.

I’m exposed, there, and the heat from my pussy throbs and spreads as the expression on his face is pure want and desire.

“Fuck, Red.”

He goes to his knees, fingers sliding, a rough ride up my inner thigh, and to my pussy. Saint doesn’t penetrate, instead, he slips along my slit, then back, and using two fingers, he pinches together my pussy lips, and I almost jump.

Our gazes clash again, sending sparks through me.

“What the fuck?” he mutters, lowering his head to suck on my clit.

I almost whimper as his velvet rough tongue moves over it. Then he looks up, scissoring those fingers.

“What the actual fuck? I thought, Red, you were a woman with taste, brains, and yet why do I get the feeling you chose men who don’t know the delights of a woman’s body, the pleasure that’s there for the taking? The fucking fact there’s pleasure in giving pleasure too?”

He drops down, this time he opens his fingers, and his tongue beats against the bottom of my clit, his fingers moving down and then into me.

An orgasm throws me high into the air. He doesn’t stop as the pleasure, the bliss, the high notes that burn hot in me, notes he released buffet me.

Saint looks up, but doesn’t lift his head. “Your mistakes are my gain. I’m going to fucking ruin you. Stamp you as mine.”

This time he pushes a finger into my as,s and he sucks, licks, and kisses, Little nips of his teeth send me shooting up into the stratosphere, and that orgasm? It rocks me again. Hard.

He flips me so my ass is facing him. Before I can scramble into a dignified position, the sound of a zip hisses, and then his big cock is there, pushing at my entrance.

Oh hell. A wave of anticipation licks my insides and I grip the back of the sofa and one of his big hands grips my hip. The other . . .

The head of his cock splits me and pushes slowly in. His fingers of his other hand brush me as he clearly guides himself. I spasm on him, and he hisses in a deep breath. “Hold on, Belle.”

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