Page 55 of The Woman in the Garage

I grabbed the back of his head, my fingers slipping into his hair, fisting in the silky strands as my hips rocked desperately against him.

Just when I was about to demand he give me more, his hand yanked my panties to the side, and his mouth was on me without the barrier.

I arched off the desk, my inner thighs shaking, and a low moan escaping me.

“Shh,” he reminded me. Only to immediately start circling my clit, making pleasure ping off my nerve endings.

I pressed my lips tightly together, but still there was no way to be silent as his tongue circled, then his fingers slipped inside me, thrusting lazily at first, then harder and faster as he drove me up.

I was embarrassingly close in mere minutes—a testament to how desperate I’d been for him for the past few weeks.

The second his fingers turned inside me and stroked against my top wall, the orgasm screamed through me, making every muscle tense as I cried out behind my closed lips.

Santo’s tongue and fingers were relentless until the orgasm finally loosened its grip on me.

Only then did he move to the side, kissing down my other thigh until he reached my knee.

He stood then, his gaze on me as he slipped his fingers in his mouth, tasting me all over again.

He reached down, sliding the straps of my dress off my shoulders, then grabbing hold of the square-neck bodice and yanking it down, exposing my bra, making me glad I’d worn a halfway cute one that day—a purple to match the flowers of my dress.

That intoxicating little rumbling sound escaped Santo again as he took a deep, steadying breath.

His fingers teased the line of my cups, making little shivers course through me.

Then he grabbed the material of both cups, yanking down hard enough for me to hear the ripping sound of some of the seams.

That was a problem for another time, though.

Right then, nothing in the world mattered but the raw hunger in his eyes as he took in my bare breasts.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his finger teasing over one of my tightened nipples, only making it strain all the more. “Sosensitive,” he murmured as another little shiver racked my system.

His gaze oscillated from my face to my chest as his fingers whispered over my skin, as his thumb and forefinger started to do delicious little rolls that had me writhing and whimpering once again.

Only then did he lean down, sucking one of my nipples into his warm mouth, making me arch up into him as his lips sucked in enticing little strobe-like motions.

His tongue teased, circled.

His teeth grazed, nipped.

Then he was moving across my chest to continue the same sweet torment.

I swear I could have come just from that.

But then his head lifted, his lips pressing a kiss between my breasts before he moved to stand again, this time reaching for me, pulling me with him until I slid off the desk to stand with him.

“Are you going to be a good girl and bend over the desk for me?” he asked, his eyes molten with his own need.

I wanted to peel his clothes off.

I wanted to touch and taste every inch of him.

I wanted to take him in my mouth and give him the same selfless pleasure he’d given me.

But, perhaps more than anything, I wanted to bend over the desk for him. I wanted to feel him buried deep inside me, filling the aching emptiness I’d been painfully aware of since meeting him.

I gave him a tight little nod.

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