Page 96 of Hot Shot

The shadow of her hood and pussy lips are visible through her tights, and a deep inhale fills me with the scent of sex. My hands slide to her hips and pull her toward me, shifting to meet her, my eyes locked on the seam splitting her pussy, her lips spilling over the sides. Mesmerized, I thumb the line and find it soaked.

I groan. She whimpers, her hips seeking.

“Fuck, you smell like heaven,” I rasp, licking my lips. “Do you taste as good as I remember? Or better?”

Her hand slides into my hair. “Shut up and find out,” she breathes, spreading her legs.

But my mouth is already closing in on her clit, tongue extended, tasting her in the air the split second before the flat meets the base, drawing it into my mouth. She goes slack withthe sweetest cry, the softest hiss of pleasure, and I lap and suck and hum against the silky mesh of her tights.

Distantly, I note her skirt as it falls over half over my head, then when it disappears again, drawn back by her so she can watch me savor her body. But I’m busy, frustration mounting, the barrier of her tights the only thing between me and the warm, wet, softness that awaits me.

“Need more.” The words tremble—I’m out of my mind, fisting the front of her tights with both hands. It takes no strength to tear them, her creamy, jostling flesh a shock and a pleasure. The satisfying sound of shredding sends another painful pulse to my aching cock. But I don’t fucking care.

She’s bared to me, the pink flesh shining and slick and waiting.

She doesn’t wait long.

The second my tongue meets her pussy, the salt of her sex explodes across my tongue. Twin moans escape us, mine between her legs, hers offered to the sky. My lids flutter closed. I shrug under her thighs and take her weight, latching on, wanting to drown. Wishing she’d clamp her thighs and suffocate me. Even then, I wouldn’t be close enough.

She squirms and wiggles and flexes her hips, and for a second I’m still, tongue extended so she can fuck it how she wants. I watch her—brows pinched, mouth open, the top buttons of her dress undone and one glorious breast bare, her dusky nipple rolling between her fingers.

My cock swells, the pressure so intense, I’m going to explode. The angle and grind of her hips presses her clit to the flat, kneading the fat, swollen bud—I shift my tongue side to side just a little, back and forth as she drags her clit up and down. When she stops, I double down, leaning in to latch onto her hood again, stroking the slick line of her pussy, pressing the tip of my index finger inside. Burying it until it’s soaked. It’s replacedby my thumb, leaving it free to seek its destination, finding her tight, puckered ass, to circle, tease. The sting when she fists my hair barely registers because she’s whimpering and panting and fucking my mouth and my hand, her eyes pinched so tight that when I press that hole and dip inside her, they fly open. She comes with a violent rush all over my tongue, my hand, her body squeezing and suckling and I have never, ever wished for anything more than to be buried to the fucking hilt inside of her.

She rides my face until she’s too tender, and then she whispers my name, scrabbling at my shoulders and jaw, urging me to come to her. And so I do, sliding her hips from my shoulders and rising on stinging knees, capturing her lips the moment I reach them. Our desire is violent, potent as she tastes herself on my tongue and lips. Her breast rests in my hand, warm and soft, her nipple pebbled, pressing into my palm. I squeeze, the flesh spilling from between my fingers.

She reaches for my belt, and a hotyesburns through me. But I pull my hips back and break the kiss, though my lips are millimeters from hers.

“The first time I fuck you again is not going to be in the bathroom at the fucking Horseshoe.”

She laughs, kisses me deeply but without tongue, thank God. I don’t know how much more I can take.

“Then we’d better get out of here,” she says, her voice smoky.

Relief washes over me, and I sigh. “Thank God. I don’t know how I’m even gonna walk out of here with my cock in this state.”

As she does up her buttons, she looks up at me and bats her lashes, her lips red and swollen. “Need motivation?”

I lick my lips.

“If you can make it to the truck, I will give you the wettest blow job you’ve ever had.”

I have to close my eyes and clench both fists to stop me from nutting my pants. “Woman, you’d better fucking clean up and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

With a wink, she slips past me. “Last one there’s a rotten egg.”

I groan, wash my hands, and then she takes my hand, unlocking the door. She’s surprisingly strong as she tows me toward the exit, waving impatiently at people. Remy and Jessa take one look at us and I watch as realization dawns on them.

“Happy birthday, man,” I shout, raising a hand in farewell as Cass shoves me out the door.

One wicked look, and she takes off running for the truck, giggling like a maniac. And I follow like a maniac, but I’m not laughing as I chase her down, too feral, too needful, absolutely certain I could fuck my way through a brick wall. When I catch her, I spin her into my arms, angling for her lips, but she wiggles away, taking off again. I growl and run after her, thanking God when I see my truck, reaching into my pocket to hit the fob to unlock the door. When I get to the driver’s side, she’s already crawling in, and I growl again at the sight of her purposely presenting me her ass and pussy, framed by her shredded tights. My hand darts out to grab a handful of her ass cheek and squeeze, my cock surging.

“Get in, Cassidy,” I command with a slap, and with a yelp and a giggle, she flips up the middle armrest and sits primly. Her back is straight, tits tilted up, her nipples hard.

I’m in the cab within a heartbeat. But when I reach for her, she smiles and backs away.

“You’ve gotta drive, Wilder—I’ll fill my promise, but afterward, you’re going to fuck me. And unless you want that to be in the truck, you’d better fucking hurry.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, firing the engine and pulling away from the curb.

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