Page 29 of Wicked Pickle

But Diesel groans as he looks. “I’ve decided the location of your kiss.” He kneels down, throwing my thigh over his shoulder.

“I thought you wanted me to—” My words disappear as I suck in my breath. His tongue is between my legs.

I clasp his head. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, my God. I don’t even know how to handle this.

My head thuds against the door. He’s in there, likewayin there, and then he adds a finger.

I’m jetting up the orgasm elevator at an unprecedented speed. Not even myzzzttttoy gets me here faster.

His free hand squeezes a breast. I can barely breathe. I’m so caught in the moment. I huff in and out, my whole body zinging.

Slow down, Symphony. Don’t blow your load like a teenage boy.

But Diesel is good, really good.

His finger crooks inside me. I’ve heard of this miracle G-spot, but I’ve never found it myself, and certainly no predecessor to my girl parts has found it. Not that I haven’t orgasmed. I have.

But Diesel is finding something nobody’s accessed before.

My body hums, actually vibrating, like it’s fully alive.

His fingers stroke, then his mouth tightens. And he’s sucking parts of me into his mouth.

Yes, the right part. Exactly the part I want him to.

I can’t keep track of everything I’m feeling. The pressure inside me. The suction on the edges. The room swims, and I have to close my eyes and hang onto his hair.

Then I’m there. Oh, God. I’m coming from his tongue and his talented hand. My hips press into his face. I can’t care if I’m suffocating him because I’m the one gasping for air, barely able to stay in place against the door.

I shudder and shudder and tighten and tighten like everything inside me has been coiled up for decades and finally allowed to break free.

My voice tries to rise, so I clasp a hand over my mouth.

It goes on and on, rolling through me. Diesel doesn’t stop, doesn’t give in.

Oh, God. I’m naked in my bridesmaid shoes in the middle of my best friend’s wedding reception.

And it’s the most intense climax of my life.

CHAPTER 10

DIESEL

She’s delicious.

Long after her body has gone still against my mouth, I linger. I could taste her all afternoon.

And I would, except her thigh is trembling. She’s one-legged again, like at my bar. Seems to be our thing.

I lower her other leg to the floor. Her perfect hairdo is askew, and I don’t give a damn that people might notice her coming out of the building looking considerably less put together than she went in.

When I let go of her, she threatens to buckle. Yeah, I got her good. I sweep her into my arms.

She clutches my neck. It’s intoxicating, carrying this naked woman through the expensive room draped in tapestries and old money.

I lean close to her ear. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

She sucks in a breath, but her eyes close as she snuggles her head against my shoulder. That’s consent in my book.

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