Page 24 of Thornhill Road

He flashed me his half-smile, then reached down to grab one of my butt-cheeks in a non-verbal reassurance we were just getting started.

Mustang backed away from me and shrugged off his kutte. He moved to hang it on a hook mounted to the back of the door—and I just knew nothing touched that hook other than his kutte.

As if that was the only thing holding him back, I had his fingers in my hair a second later. He gripped a fistful and angled my head where he wanted it before he gave me his mouth. I got another greedy, wet kiss as he snaked his other arm around my waist, pulling me close.

He then walked me backwards across the room.

As we went, he started tugging at my shirt.

Before I knew it, my top was on the floor.

We were still inching backwards when I pulled at the hem of his shirt, and he was quick to reach between his shoulders and yank it over his head. I drank him in, a small voice in the back of my head telling mehisbody was incredible, and mine wasn’t quite so fine.

He had a patch of chest hair between his pecs—and more tattoos on either side.

On his right was an image of a galloping mustang, depicted like it was coming at me.

Over his heart were two little footprints.

I didn’t read into those because my eyes kept going.

He had a six pack. Like anactualsix pack.

My god—he was hot.

So hot, that small voice in my head was drowned out by a much louder one—this one telling me Mustang was turning me on to heights I’d never traversed, and if I didn’t come soon, I might die.

Then the back of my knees hit the edge of a bed, and I quickly found myself no longer vertical.

Mustang wasted not a second before sliding off my shoes then reaching for the buttons of my jeans. He peeled them off, taking my soaked panties with them, and then I was in nothing but my bra.

As soon as he caught sight of my sex, he descended—with his mouth.

I was so primed—no joke—he licked me once, twirled his tongue around my clit, and I was coming.

After our ride and all my built-up arousal, my quick-hitting orgasm felt so good, I wasn’t even embarrassed.

He kept at me until I grabbed a fistful of his hair and squeezed my thighs together.

Mustang freed his head in order to look up at me, and he did this grinning.

He nipped the inside of my thigh, then stood and proceeded to unbutton his jeans. As he freed the zipper, he walked toward the top of the bed, pulled open the drawer of a nightstand, and extracted a condom.

I started panting, my first orgasm barely scratching the surface of my need.

On his way back to the foot of the bed, he shoved down the waist of his jeans and boxer briefs only far enough to free his hard length.

I swallowed and squirmed at the sight of him.

He looked glorious—and I wanted all of that inside of me.

I ached for it. Desperately. Pathetically.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait for long.

Mustang made quick work of the condom, then took hold of me behind my knees, spreading my legs wide before he thrust in deep.

All the way in. Until I was full. So blissfully full.

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