Page 54 of Relationship Goals

Then his mouth is in between my legs, and my eyes roll back in my head.

“Luke,” I murmur, desperate for more, for the coiling readiness tight inside me to find an outlet.

He licks my clit, working his tongue around it in delicious little circles, like a man on a mission. I groan his name again, my hips bucking against the press of his mouth right where I need it.

“That’s right, Abigail, take what you want,” he tells me. One handmoves from my hip to the curve of my ass. His fingers grip it so tight that I cry out in surprise, and he redoubles his efforts.

“So fucking perfect, aren’t you?” he says.

“So close,” I agree. My fingers tangle in his hair like it’s the only thing anchoring me to reality.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?” he says, looking up from hooded lids between my legs.

I nod, slightly frantic for him to stop talking and put his money where his mouth is. Or an orgasm where his mouth is. Either or.

Preferably orgasm.

His other hand slides between my legs as he continues to work me with slow, torturous circles. I suck in a breath as he slips a finger inside me.

“So wet.” The observation is ragged, and I can’t breathe, I can’t answer.

“Feels so good,” I practically wheeze.

“That’s fucking right.”

He adds a second finger, stretching me deliciously, his mouth picking up speed as I pant and writhe beneath him, holding on to his hair and the couch for dear life.

His two fingers pump in and out of me, and there are no thoughts.

It feelsperfect.

When he clamps down on my clit, sucking it hard, I cry out, seeing stars before I go limp, my stomach and leg muscles twitching.

He keeps licking, slowing down, pulling me slowly from that apex of pleasure, until I manage a tiny hiccup of a noise and push at his head, too sensitive for more.

When he finally pulls away from my body, he licks his lip, a smug smile firmly in place.

“That was…” I stare at him, a shiver wracking my limbs, totally satisfied and somehow still wanting more. “Awesome.”

“Good,” he says, kissing one knee as he pulls my underwear back on. “I’m glad.”

I reach for him, until he finally laughs and clambers on top of me, kissing my forehead, the tip of my nose, and then my mouth.

It’s soft, and yet there’s still a hard edge of need to it.

I slide my hand down the incredibly hard stomach muscles, reaching for him. “I can return the favor—”

“Nope.” He laughs, standing up and shaking a finger at me. “I might regret it, but I’m not going that far against my own superstitions.”

“But—”

“Nope.” He grins at me, his attention sliding down my spent and mostly naked body. “You are beautiful, Abigail. So beautiful. Thank you.”

“Thankyou,” I say, still breathless with wonder and postorgasmic euphoria. “Are you sure I can’t just maybe—”

“Wear the jersey,” he interrupts, putting more space between us.

He takes a ragged breath, and I wriggle a little, giving him a tiny mischievous grin.

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