Page 81 of The Foul Out

“Don’t expect me to beg.” With a smirk, she pulled my head down and brought her lips to mine again. The way her kiss ignited a fire inside me was unfamiliar but so damn incredible. The electric desire that coursed through my extremities andwent straight to my cock every time her lips met mine was unlike any sensation I’d ever experienced. But I needed more of it.

I skimmed a hand down her neck and over the mound of her breast, fucking finally getting to feel her soft tits. I was a boob guy. I loved the weight in my palm, the soft skin against my lips, the pebbling of a nipple on my tongue. Hers were a perfect handful. I squeezed, and her answering moan had my cock throbbing against my zipper, begging to be released.

I toyed with the edge of her T-shirt, teasing the warm skin underneath, and ran my hand up farther, flattening my palm along her soft skin as my tongue tangled with hers. The soft whimper that reverberated up her throat had my heart pounding.

With a grunt, I broke the kiss and yanked the T-shirt over her head. Then I pulled back. Her breasts were covered in a simple white bra, but above the cups, her pale skin was peppered by freckles. I wanted to lick each one. Run my thumbs beneath them and make her quiver. Tease the nipples just barely visible through the white fabric. I’d do it all until she was begging and needy.

Lowering my gaze, I took in her soft stomach and the swell of her hips. Unable to resist, I let my finger dance just above the line of her leggings.

Her muscles clenched. “I know I’m not like the models…”

Instantly, I zeroed in on her face, cupping her cheeks, and took in the crease of worry on her brow I didn’t quite understand.

“What?” I searched her expression, finding apprehension and a little fear where, only moments ago, I’d seen nothing but confidence.

“You date models with perfect bodies, and I have stretch marks and loose skin. I don’t have time to even think about the gym or a sit-up.” She glanced away from me, her chin lowered.

Had she somehow mistaken my adoration for disappointment?

“Harper,” I said, that word catching in my throat. “Look at me.”

It took a moment, but eventually, she focused those amber eyes on me. They were glassy and wide.

“Is there something in the way I can’t catch my breath, in the way I can’t think beyond getting to touch you, getting to give you pleasure, that makes it seem like I’m not blown the fuck away by you?”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t respond.

“Crabby, in my eyes, every stretch mark, every soft curve, every freckle, every part of you, is perfection.”

She lifted a hand and raked her fingers through my hair. I leaned into her touch, craving more of it.

As I shifted, my cock pressed into her thigh, and a deep groan worked up my chest. “My body is literally begging for you. Don’t mistake my complete adoration for anything else.”

“The feeling is pretty mutual.” She lifted to press her lips to mine once more, sending another tingle through me.

I slid my hand around her ribcage and unclasped the bra keeping her tits from me. The second they were free, I pulled my mouth from hers and yanked the straps off her arms. At the sight of her perfect light pink nipples, I dropped my head and lapped at one slowly.

In response, she hissed a breath and scraped her nails along my scalp.

“You like that?”

“Yes,” she moaned, dropping her head back.

“Good, because I fucking love it.” I nipped and lapped and sucked one nipple until she was squirming, then switched to the other and back again.

“Kyle, please,” she begged.

“Please, what?” I pulled back and fisted my green henley at the back of my neck, then yanked it off. On my knees before her, I moved in closer, and she spread her legs wider for me. I rocked against her, and even through our clothes, I felt the heat of her pussy. I groaned as her wet nipples pressed into my chest. “Do you need me to make you come, Crabby?”

She clawed at my back, pulling herself even closer. “I need to feel you inside me.”

“We’ll get there.” With that promise, I slid down her body, pulling her leggings off as I went. “But first, I want a taste, because I fully intend to make this your best orgasm ever.”

Brow cocked, she pushed up onto her elbows. “Even sex is a competition?”

“Oh baby, there won’t be a competition. I’ll blow everyone else out of the water.” Grinning, I ran my hands up her smooth, creamy thighs and parted her legs. Her pussy was pink and glistening for me, begging for my tongue.

Unable to resist for another second, I lowered and gave her one long, teasing stroke. She fell back on the sofa with a moan, clutching the back of my head. Holding me against her. The taste of her exploded on my tongue, salty and sweeter than I could have imagined. She was my favorite flavor. And I wanted more of it.

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