Page 88 of The Overtime Kiss

“Yeah?” The question is breathy. But it’s hardly a question. It’s more like the most delicious realization I’ve ever experienced in my entire life.

With a bitten off moan, he grips my hips, moving me against his hard-on, setting the pace as he makes me dry hump him. Thoughmakes mebarely covers it—I am ready and here for the dry fucking. The full fucking. Any fucking from Tyler.

“I get off to it every night,” he says, like it’s been driving him mad to be this worked up, this aroused. I love the way he’s been so frustrated by his desire. Same here. “I fucked myfist last week, picturing how you’d taste coming all over my face.”

I’m officially boneless from the admission. “That was the night I?—”

“The night you stopped outside my door,” he says with a smug, satisfied smirk.

“You knew I was there?”

A cocky grin curves his lips, like his pressure’s been loosened, the frustration abated from all these bare admissions. “I heard something in the hallway. I’m guessing it was you. And I bet you were tempted to come in,” he says, then gives a lazy thrust of his hips.

“I was,” I say, rocking back against him, seeking out as much of his arousal as I can get.

He strokes my face, and I’m painfully aware he still hasn’t stripped off my clothes, still hasn’t told me what he’ll do to me.

“But you wanted to watch me,” he continues. “You wanted to see how fucking wound up I was.”

A shudder rolls through me as he thrusts again, thick and hard. But I don’t give in yet to the questions or the pleasure. “Did I want that?” I ask, shameless, because I’m a fast learner. I can play this game.

He curls his hand around the back of my skull. “You would’ve stayed,” he rasps out. “You would’ve watched. You would’ve pushed that door open a little more, just to see my cock in my hand. Maybe even stepped into my room, leaned against the door, and thrust your hand inside your panties while you watched me come so fucking hard.To you.”

I barely even know what’s happening to my body. Pleasure is everywhere. It’s racing through every single nerve ending. I’m on the verge of coming. I’ve been so worked up since the second he touched me, since before he even carriedme inside, that every little movement winds me tighter. Every word makes me hotter.

I can’t form words. I just moan.

With a low, pleased noise, he thrusts up again.

Again.

Then again.

A long, slow stroke.

I cry out, bracing for the onslaught of pleasure he’s delivering to my body.

“And you knew what got me off,” he says, a challenge. Like he’s daring me to admit everything from that night. How all the clues added up.

“I had a feeling,” I murmur.

His grip tightens on my hips, rough and demanding. “Tell me, Sabrina. Tell me what did it for me. Tell me what made me come harder than I ever have before.”

“You watched my video,” I blurt out and I’m so close. So fucking close. All I want is for him to touch me.

And I swear this man can read my mind because he moves so quickly I can barely process what’s happening. But he’s lifted me off his lap, set me back on the couch, and is peeling off my leggings and fuzzy socks. Just like that.

He kneels on the floor, yanks down my panties, and lets out the lowest, dirtiest rumble. “Fucking beautiful. So fucking pretty.”

No one has ever praised me like this. No one. And it makes me even wetter.

“Yes, that’s it, baby,” he says, as he spreads my thighs wide, then meets my gaze and says, “this is what got me off.”

Then his mouth is on me with a hot, open-mouthed kiss that sends a jolt right through my body. I grab his hair, gripping tight, curling my fingers through it as he kisses my pussy—a man unhinged, a man showing me exactly what turns him on.

Me.

He sucks and licks, worshipping me with his mouth. It’s incredible, the way he touches me, with flicks of his tongue and drags of his lush lips, and a blow of air here and there, then a suck on my clit that has me crying out. But most of all, it’s his noises that send me to the cliff. Hungry, eager noises as he feasts.

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