Page 76 of Unrivaled

I take my time tracing every inch of her soft flesh, dipping in and out of her opening, then lapping at her like she did her spoon in the restaurant. Exploring, enjoying, savoring. Listening to her sounds and waiting for the things that make her muscles jump or clench or go lax to figure out what will take her to the edge when I’m ready to send her there.

After taking my time teasing all around her pussy but never directly on her clit, I make my way back there and suck it between my lips. She jumps, her whole body stiffening like she got zapped by a live wire. I ease off a little and let her get her bearings, then move my hand so my thumb rests just at the base of her opening, circling her clit slowly with the tip of my tongue.

She rocks into my mouth, silently begging for more, but I keep up what I’m doing until she’s actually begging.

“Oh god, Gray, please please please.”

And with her asking so politely, how can I do anything other than give her what she wants?

I suck her clit into my mouth again, scrubbing my tongue over it just like I did her nipples last week, sinking two fingers into her at the same time. She immediately clenches around my fingers, and I’m not sure if it’s on purpose or involuntary at first, but then her hands tighten in my hair so I can’t move, and I know she’s close.

Fucking her with my fingers, I keep going with my mouth until she’s rubbing her pussy against me, crying, “Yes, fuck,ngh,fuck!”

She comes on my face with a wordless cry, her pussy spasming around my fingers, and I can’t fucking wait to get inside her and make her do it again.

I bring her down with slow strokes deep inside and soft laps of my tongue until she’s pushing me away instead of trying to pull me closer.

Releasing her leg, I sit back on my heels, grinning up at her as her dress falls between us, covering where my hands still hold her hips to make sure she’s steady before I let go.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, panting against the door.

Standing, I kiss her, and she doesn’t shy away from kissing me back.

When I pull back, her eyes flutter open, and that wicked smile I’ve come to look forward to curls her lips. Her palm goes flat on my chest, and she gives me a little push.

“My turn.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Tiffany

Gray lets me push him into the living room, his expression going from surprised to pleased. “Your turn?”

I bite my lip and nod, giving him a little shove so he sits down on the couch. Right in the middle. Except he doesn’t sink in.

Blinking away the haze of lust clouding my vision, I actually look at it for a second. It’s light blue like I’m used to, but a few shades lighter and it’s not threadbare. “You got a new couch.”

He chuckles, running a hand over the smooth upholstery. “I did. After sleeping on the old one last weekend, I decided it was time.”

“That’s a terrible color to choose when you have a preschooler coming over regularly.”

He grins. “It has stain shield. Now, are you really going to lecture me on my choice of couch colors right now? I thought you had something else in mind.”

With a laugh, I shake my head and climb into his lap. “You’re right,” I say, giving my voice a dark edge. “I have other plans after all.”

His hands settle on my waist, which is fine for now, especially since he’s just resting them there and not trying to control my movements. I stay high on my knees and thread my hands through his hair, tugging his head back. His eyes practically glow with arousal, and I’m extra aware that I’ve gotten off already and he hasn’t. And he was already hard before we left the restaurant. I saw the tent in his pants that he tried to conceal while he put his coat on. And felt the way his pants were stretched tight near his crotch on the drive over.

But instead of torturing him by rubbing against him through our clothes, I torture him by kissing him deeply and not rubbing against him at all.

He tastes like me, like sex and sin and decadence, and his dirty line about wanting something creamy for dessert goes through my head.

Ending the kiss, I scoot back and drag my fingernails down his chest. “I like this,” I tell him, rubbing the silken fabric of his gray vest.

“I know,” he says, his voice gravelly. “I could tell. You couldn’t stop ogling me at dinner.”

My lips quirk in a half smile, and I meet his eyes. “Well, it was mutual. You could barely keep your eyes off my boobs all night.”

As though to prove my point, he looks at them again, his hands sliding up to cup them, his thumbs finding my nipples with scary accuracy considering I’m wearing a bra with enough padding to disguise them. But not so much that I can’t feel him working them.

---