Page 153 of Restless Hawke
He didnotjust say that.
This man’s filthy words are my kryptonite.
I’m powerless to deny what I want when he urges me to say it, and when he doesthis—tells me exactly whathewants in such an open and sensual way—I have no choice but to admit that he completely owns me.
My pussy clenches at the fire in his eyes.
Like he’s literallyburningfor me.
Good God.
Strong hands tighten on my hips, and he smacks my ass. “Climb up here and sit on my face.”
“What?”
“Grab the fucking headboard and sit on my face.” He digs his fingers into my skin. “I’m going to make sure that any tears you have for the rest of the night are only because you can’t handle another orgasm. Do you understand?”
Fuck yes, I do.
And it sounds like a much better alternative to being stuck in my own head.
I slowly follow his command, shuffling up on my knees over him until I’m straddling his shoulders, my pussy centered directly above his face.
He grins up at me as he glides his fingers through the wetness coating me that we both know full well isn’t just my arousal. His cum still fills me since we both passed out and never made it to the shower earlier.
Those talented fingers play there, slipping through the moisture, drifting it across my clit, dipping into me only briefly, before he pulls them away.
Coen brings them to his mouth and licks, issuing a primitive, appreciative groan. “There it is.”
Christ.
My breath catches at the gleam in his eyes.
The feral look of an animal about to devour its prey.
He holds my gaze for a moment, almost like he’s dragging out my anticipation on purpose, before he finally lifts his head and he’s on me.
His mouth latches onto my core.
“Oh, fuck!” I grip the headboard as my body seizes, my hips bucking and rolling against his face. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”
He thrusts his tongue inside me as deep as he can, like he’s trying to clean me out with it, and good God, he might be able to.
So fucking good.
They say lawyers are supposed to have silver tongues, but this non-lawyer who never wanted to be one sure as fuck has a golden one.
Every flick across my clit. Every lick along my slit. Every thrust of his tongue inside me. They wind me tighter and tighter.
My hips roll of their own accord, grinding against his face, chasing the release of everything that’s been pent up inside me, refusing to be let out any other way.
All my nerve endings spark. My limbs shake. That heat stares low in my belly.
“Fuck, Coen…”
He drags his face away from my flesh. “We can do that next, I promise.”
I laugh, struggling to keep my eyes open against the sensual assault happening between my legs.
