Page 67 of The Overtime Kiss

Fuck.

They drive me on, even though I should pump the brakes. Instead, I travel down her neck, pressing a hot kiss to the hollow of her throat. Her breath snags beautifully as she arches into me more, grabbing my hair tighter.

A buzz of electricity shoots straight to my groin.

I want to give her everything, but I’m not sure I can survive the way this feels. The skitters along my spine. The pressure everywhere. The sparks of pleasure.

I remember everything she said that night. Every single thing. I move down her chest, kissing her warm, soft flesh, wanting to give her everything she craves in bed.

I reach the top of her tank top. Guilt lodges in my brain. Am I really doing this? Am I really pushing the boundaries?

But I can’t stop. And she doesn’t seem to want me to.

She thrusts up against me once more, whisperingplease,and that’s it—I’m lost.

I pull the fabric down, exposing her tits, and fuck me.

I had a feeling.

Her nipples are pierced, and they’re perfect.

I kiss one, sucking on the tiny barbell. She squirms and writhes. I kiss the other, flicking the metal with my tongue.

She gasps, then breathes out my name like a dirty prayer. “Tyler.”

I nearly lose my mind.

“That—do it again,” she says. She sounds high on this moment. Like she wants this. Like she needs this.

And I want to give it to her, even though my head says stop. Don’t go any farther. She’s your employee. She’s the nanny. This is reckless. A mistake.

I should back off. Stop myself.

But one look at her bruised lips, her hungry eyes, and all my restraint shatters.

Her tits are in my face, and there’s no place I’d rather be. I kiss and lick and suck as she holds me tight against her chest.We are a frenzy of desire. Unstoppable lust that’s been building inside these walls.

Her words flash through my head—I can’t stop thinking about how you might kiss me. Everywhere.

I want to kiss her everywhere.

My head is a fog. I’ve lost all sense of reason. And I don’t even want to find it.

I just want to find her.

I kiss my way down her body, over the soft, beautiful flesh of her belly. “You taste so sweet,” I say.

She murmurs. “Don’t stop.”

“I can’t stop. You’re too fucking delicious. Too fucking sweet.” I kiss her belly ring, and I’m close—very close—to the waistband of her leggings. To the way it dips in a little V. To the invitation of her spread legs.

She parts them more.

I inch down her body, wanting to taste her everywhere.

My hands toy with the waistband, and she urges me on, pushing my head, shoving me down. Making it clear that all systems are a go. And my cock seems to think so too.

I pull the fabric down an inch and kiss her waist.

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