Page 93 of All We Need

His tongue lashes over my center.Nogentle caresses orteasing touches.Hedevours me like a man starved, lavishing me asIslump against the wall, his hands being the only thing to stop me from collapsing.

“Gamoto.”Fuck.“Yes,Booth.”Myhands wind into his messy hair, anchoring his mouth to me as my orgasm crests.“Ineed your fingers.Fuckme with your fingers.”

“God,Ilove it when you tell me what to do.”Heflicks the tip of his tongue against my clit before plunging two thick digits into my pussy and pumping into me in rhythm with his wicked mouth. “Comefor me,Aly.ThenI’llgive you my cock, you greedy fucking girl.”

In no time at all,I’mcatapulting over the edge.

Stars blind me.

Booth doesn’t let up.Herelentlessly licks, sucks, and kisses me through each ripple of pleasure.Theforearm he has pressed to my stomach keeps me in place as he tortures me.

Minutes?Hours?Whoknows how much time passes, but when he finally concedes, he grins up at me, tongue running over his glistening lips.

“Who knewAlessandraArgiroscould be so sweet and submissive.”

His teasing wink and cocky words have the right effect.

On wobbly legs,Iset the half-cooked ingredients in the fridge.

WhenIface him,I’mthe one smiling suggestively asIrun my hand down his jaw.

“How about we switch it up?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

booth

Aly’s bedroomis feminine and minimalistic.

As she herded me to her room,Ispied her easel and a pile of blank canvases in the corner of the living room.BeforeIcould ask her for a tour, she had my zipper down and her soft warm hand was fisting my cock.

It could wait.

Now,Alywatches me from the doorway.Eachsweep of her eyes heightens my senses.Ihold out my hand for her, but she backs away.

“I’m going to use the bathroom.Makeyourself comfortable.”Hergaze trails to where my jeans are shoved halfway down my thighs. “Withfewer clothes.”

My blood turns molten at the sensual sway of her hips as she drifts out of the room.Ipress my palm into my erection, willing it to calm the fuck down.

I’d rather not finish in my pants again.

Her cream bedsheets look expensive—probably with an infinite thread count.It’sno secret she’s here temporarily, yet seeing her unpacked suitcase leaves a fist-sized hole in mychest.Myeyes home in on her dresser.Amongher perfume bottles and jewelry, a row of frames line the back.

WhenIstepped foot in her apartment, the question surrounding her parentage disappeared.Withouther here to distract me, my mind wanders.Ipick up a photo of five people;Alystands in the center, surrounded by two taller men with olive skin, brown eyes, and light brown hair.Anolder woman with matching features stands on one end while a bald man of similar age stands on the other.

Her brothers and parents,Ipresume.

I can’t help but noticeAlyshares no similarities with either parent or her brothers.

Not everyone looks like their parents.

That has to be it.Becausethe alternative is too far-fetched.

Right?

“You’re not very good at following instructions, are you?” a sultry voice says behind me.

WhenIspin around, the frame clatters to the wooden surface, eyes popping out of my head.

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