Page 15 of The Pen Pal
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Adam!” Amelia traps my head with her thighs and rides my face. Fuck, yes. She rubs her pussy against me while I keep my tongue inside her. And she explodes. A gush of wetness coats my tongue, and I continue to lap at her.
Her thighs shake, and her pussy flutters around me. By the time she slumps back on the bed, I smile against her and plant a soft kiss on her inner thigh.
Even after she came, primal desire pulses between us. The air is so thick with it, and I can practically taste it on my tongue. And my cock is so fucking hard, I won’t be surprised if it tears itself free from my pants.
“Adam, that was … that was…”
I hover above her, hands braced on either side of her head. “Oh, sweetheart. You think we’re done?”
At this, she smiles. “We better fucking not be.”
“Good because while I don’t intend to cross everything on the list in one night, I want to at least do half.”
Her eyes widen, the gears turning in her head. She’s probably trying to rack her brain about number five, and I see the exact moment she remembers. “Y-you mean?”
“I’ve never had public sex before, but there’s always a first time.”
Excitement flashes across her features as she sits back up, almost headbutting me. “Where?”
“The terrace.”
“Take me there now.”
I chuckle against her neck. “So impatient.”
“Adam, I swear to God?—”
The words die on her tongue as I capture her mouth in a kiss.
5
AMELIA
Icould absolutely orgasm from Adam’s kisses alone. The man claims my mouth like he’s a starving man tasting his first meal in years, and I love it. God, I love it so much because I’ve never been kissed like this. Never.
The door to his terrace is barely closed before he’s pressing me against it.
Cool glass kisses my back. Warm lips kiss everything else.
I’m fully naked, and he has stripped down to his boxers and nothing else. Based on how the thin fabric molds to his cock, I can tell he’s gifted there, too. Apparently, he’s God’s gift to us women. By women, I mean me. Just me. I don’t share.
We’re outside—well, sort of. His terrace is private-ish, shielded by tall planters and the shadow of the building, but still open to the night. The city lights flicker just beyond, stars above us, the rush of distant traffic humming like background noise to the way he touches me.
A terrace under the stars, where we’re technically still in public but cocooned in our own little universe. Pretty clever.
“I know it’s not a crowded bar or an elevator,” Adam says, voice low against my throat, “but it’s the best I can do for public without getting you arrested.”
I laugh, breathless. “God, you’re such a gentleman.”
“A gentleman on the streets…” —he trails one hand down the curve of my waist— “…you know the rest.”
I do. Oh, I do.
I tilt my head back against the glass, the stars twinkling overhead, the wind brushing my skin. I’ve never done anything like this before. There’s a reason why this ended on my list. On my own, I never would have found the audacity to do it. But with Adam, everything feels possible.
Adam’s hand cradles the back of my head to kiss me again, and my arms loop around his neck, pulling him as close as I can. I trail the goosebumps on his back with my hand and laugh. “Are you cold?”
“Fuck, yes. My family jewels are about to freeze. Are you cold?”
