Page 110 of How to Win the Girl

Everywhere.

I tell her the only way I can—with my mouth, with the slow roll of my tongue against hers. The slight roll of mypelvisagainst hers.

I want to heave her off the ground and press her back against the wall and fuck her, but instead, I kiss the center of her neck—down to the beating pulse where her gold necklace hangs, down to the valley between her breasts.

My hands are on her waist, moving beneath her shirt, up her stomach, cupping her bare tits.

Nope.

No bra.

Christ they feel good in my hands, her hard nipples like pebbles between my fingers.

Daisy moans, tipping her head back, running her hands through my hair as I wander south. I grip her ass and squeeze, fingers flirting with the waistband of her jeans, thumb brushing over and over the button and zipper.

With a guttural groan, I hoist her up, setting her on the counter.

I go to my knees between her legs, fingers plucking her jeans open. Zipper down. Pull her ass to the edge of the counter and tug them down so she’s sitting in only her black thong underwear.

Daisy spreads her legs.

“Good girl.”

I haven’t eaten a girl out in ages. Literal. Ages.

Normally, it’smegetting my rocks off. Dick sucked. Or it’smefucking someone because I’m horny and need a release from pent-up energy—rarely do I ever go down on someone. Or pleasure them without wanting the favor returned.

Selfish prick.

But now I’m excited.

Giddy, almost.

With Daisy spread out before me—with her legs propped up on my shoulders—I move forward with my thumbs, ready to stroke her pussy. I start slowly, grazing the edge of her panty line, moving one in slow circles where her clit is through the thin material.

I can see every inch of her because her thong is satin and see-through.

I pull at the black fabric, easing it out of my way.

Give her a lick.

Blow gently to watch her squirm.

Sexy as hell. Mouthwatering.

I want to suck and lick every last fucking inch of her if she’ll let me, starting with her pussy.

Right here.

Right now.

They say you can find heaven between a woman’s legs, and I found it tonight, lapping up the delicious part of Daisy that I’ve been dreaming about for days.

She lets out another moan, hands gripping the edge of the counter, her body being held up by, well—my face.

My hands.

“You taste so good,” I groan.

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