Page 28 of Finding Hope

“Jesus, Bambie.” Tilting my head to watch her fingers slide in and out, I mentally send her shorts to the depths of a fiery and painful hell for still being on her body and blocking my view.

Moving her fingers to the same rhythm as her mouth, she whimpers and scrunches her eyes closed as she brings us both pleasure and I simply stand over her like a lazy piece of shit.

“Jesus, Bambie. Fuck, you feel good.”

“Mmm.” The deep vibrations of her hum have my balls drawing up and threatening to end it all. Fast as I used to be – once upon a time – I pull out of her mouth and have her big eyes shooting up to mine in shock. “What are y–”

“Come here.” Bending low, I pull her up until her legs wrap around my hips. Waddling through my foyer with my jeans around my ankles, I take her tongue in my mouth and savor every groan she gives.

Every noise of pleasure she makes sends shocks of electricity to my dick and an insane need to claim her.

“Gonna fuck you, Bambie.” I pull her tongue into my mouth and hold it hostage until she whimpers. “In my bed this time.”

“Okay.”

Using one hand to hold her light frame up, I use the other to work on removing her top. Helping me, she takes the hem and peels it over her head, and as she drops it to the floor, her hair seductively floats back down to cover her shoulders.

Instantly drawn to what I knew I could feel at the club, I groan and study the silver bar. “You have a nipple piercing.” Folding my body in half, I bring her tit into my mouth until she cries out and clutches at my hair. “This might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“You haven’t seen my clit yet.”

Laughing and groaning at the same time, I shake my head and nibble on the silver bar and pink flesh. “I’m replacing your tit with your clit in about three minutes.”

Moaning, she hugs my face against her chest. “I fucking hope so.”

I stroke a hand along her ribs, along the tattoos I saw teasing glimpses of earlier, then over strong thighs and smooth leather.

“Shit!” Annie yelps when I step on her tail. Skittering noisily up the stairs, I shake my head and make a plan to apologize tomorrow.

“You okay?”

“Mmm.” Climbing the stairs one dangerous step at a time, I nibble along her chest and work my way back up to her neck. “Do you bathe in strawberries?”

“Hmm?”

“Swear to God, you taste like strawberries.”

Giggling, then stopping on a squeak, she lets out a whooshed breath when I reach the top landing and slam her against the hallway wall.

I’m being too rough. Too demanding. Too whatever, but as I bring her surprisingly unpierced tongue into my mouth, I find I can’t help it.

I can’t slow down.

Hungrily exploring her hips, I set her down on her feet, drop to my knees, and tear the leather shorts down her legs. “Do you taste like strawberries all over, Bambie?”

Dropping her head back against the wall, she opens her legs and threads her fingers in my hair.

Taking that as invitation and pinning her hips to the wall, I lean in and snake my tongue between her legs.

“Oh God!” Jutting her hips forward, she works to ride my face. “Fuck, Jack.”

“Yeah, you do.” I groan and keep sampling. “Strawberries.”

“Fuck.” Her fingers tug on my hair. “Don’t you fucking stop. I’ll kill you if you stop.”

I stop anyway.

Her face turns murderous, her eyes glittering with feral attitude, but before she can say or do anything, I take her mouth with mine and stifle her anger.

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