Page 69 of Chasing the Wild
Resting my forehead against hers, I brace one arm on the wall above her head and finally—fucking finally—dare take a glance down at the sight of her exposed to me for the first time. My breath shudders as we both look down, following the path of my other hand. She’s so unbelievably soft, and pink, and glistening wet. Jesus. My thumb glides over her pussy lips, caressing and dipping into the slickness between her thighs. It’s like every fucking fantasy I’ve had about this girl has come to life.
The sensation of having her, feeling her bare like this, is almost too much. My eyes drop closed for a moment as a dark groan escapes me.
She presses her plush lips against the stubble on my throat, her tongue darts out and laps at my skin with a whimper. “Yes. Holy shit.Colt.”
I feel drunk on the way she keeps saying my name.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet.” My dick aches as my thumb slides further in and swipes over her swollen clit. When I brush against the pouting little bud, stroking her pussy, Layla jerks a little. “Why are you so wet?” It comes out like a gritty curse.
This is surely my own personal hell. Because it was bad enough when I knew she wanted to kiss me back. It was puretorture seeing her look at me and fall apart while grinding in my lap. But now this? Now I know exactly how swollen and dripping her sweet little cunt is beneath me? Well, that singular glimpse is going to goddamn destroy me.
Her teeth graze my skin, panting breaths fan across my neck, a wildness clings to her energy. She’s so tightly wound, I need her coming apart on my tongue right fucking now. That way I can get us inside and take my time, but this moment right here isn’t about anything but chasing a release we’ve both been building toward for weeks.
Months, if I’m being honest with myself.
Fuck it all, because honesty feels a lot like doing the right thing, and if I scratch at that thought too long, I’m going to remember exactly why this is a terrible idea.
So I do the thing I shouldn’t do, and lower myself down on my knees in front of her. Grabbing hold of her hips. Painfully fucking aware of how soft and perfect Layla is compared to my calloused, weather-beaten hands.
“Last chance, baby.” I gaze up at her, hovering my mouth so close to her pussy, it’s taking all my willpower not to feast on her without hearing the words that are going to spell my final damnation in this.
The scent of her arousal washes over me, and she’s so damn sweet. It’s a heady thing knowing that she’s wet and needy and aching for this just as badly as I am. The fact that we’re both in this torture together feels like a secret kind of fantasy. One we can both disappear into, suspending time just for this moment.
“I want you, so fucking badly. But I’ve never—I usually can’t—Not like this.”
Jesus. I’m torn right now. Do I hate that no one has ever treated this girl the way she deserves, or do I love that I get to be the one to ruin her for anyone else who might come after me?
I’m enough of an asshole that it’s definitely the latter.
“You’re going to shatter on my tongue. Then we’re going to go inside, and I’m going to take my time worshiping this pussy.” Dragging my mouth over her inner thigh allows me to greedily soak up the way she whimpers with pleasure, feeling the rasp of my beard.
“You don’t have to.”
I nip at the soft swell of flesh with my teeth, drawing a gasp out of her, before soothing the spot with my tongue.
“This is exactly where I want to be. I’ve been dreaming about having my mouth on your pussy for months.” I growl against the inside of her thigh. That’s not a lie either. Since that first day, I’ve had dreams about her, and as much as I tried to fight them, wiping Layla from my mind was impossible. Confirming just how much of a terrible person I am, because once Iknewwho she was, it only got filthier, more depraved, more focused on filling and marking and spending my release inside her.
Her whimper fills the air.
“Fuck, Layla. Tell me to stop.” I blow gently over her pussy. “Baby, please just tell me to stop.”
She shakes her head. Mouth flushed, lips swollen, her cheeks pink from both the cold and being flooded with arousal.
“I can’t. I want more.” She begs, and my dick kicks at the desperate sound. “Please.”
My teeth and beard graze her inner thigh again. “What do you want more of?”
“Everything. You. Your mouth. Oh, god.” Layla pushes her fingers into my hair, and it’s that touch of her fingertips that drags us both over the line we shouldn’t be crossing.
I part her pussy lips with my thumbs and close my mouth over her clit. There’s not much room to move with her pants only just pulled down over her luscious thighs, but I intend to explore every inch of this girl tonight. This is just the start of all the things I’m going to do to her.
All the ways I’m going to pleasure her.
Layla bucks against my mouth as I suck down. She’s moaning and begging and tugging on my hair like a goddamn angel above me. The filthiest kind. One that doesn’t mind getting her halo dirty down here in the darkness with me.
She tastes so fucking sweet, with her arousal coating my mouth and soaking my face. I lap at her and run my tongue through her seam, keeping her spread open so I can fasten down on the part of her that draws out the horniest little noises. My cock is begging to burst out of my own jeans, leaving me damn near humping the air as I drag my tongue up and swirl around her bud.
“Fuck. Oh. God.” She starts shuddering above me, and I keep my eyes on her as I do it again. And again.
