Page 85 of Branded
Fuck.
Her underwear wasn’t more than a scrap of silk that left those plump, round cheeks bare. “Little bird,” I murmured, breaking the kiss and carrying her into the kitchen.
“What?” she asked innocently, breathing hard.
“You’ve been naughty again.”
“Because I put on clothes?” she asked silkily.
I dipped my finger under the thin strap that was sliding between her cheeks. “Is that what this is?” I asked, sliding it down, down.
She shivered as I plunked her on the kitchen counter, not bothering to tug down her dress. Yes, I’d had it all planned out, had wanted to take her out and?—
Her hand came to my jeans, worked its way into the waistband, fingers grazing the tip of my cock.
I needed her more.
Her dress was rucked up, baring miles of velvety skin, baring that tiny scrap of lace. Lavender. Sheer. Not concealing the small thatch of brown curls I’d kissed my way across many times over the last weeks, not concealing the plump folds of her labia, pink and glistening in the bright lights of the kitchen.
There was a little tie on that blue dress, something that must hold the two halves together, because while her clever little fingers of one hand worked at teasing the head of my cock, the other lifted, tugged at a slender strap of navy fabric.
And like fucking magic, the dress fell open.
A sheer bra revealing puffy pink nipples, the pouty tips calling for my mouth.
Hips that were a man’s dream, something with substance, something to hold on to as I pounded deep.
A belly button that I’d dipped my tongue into, a trail of freckles I’d connected with my mouth, collarbones that seemed so slender and fragile and yet, if I kissed her there, if I flicked out my tongue, sucked the tender skin, her breath caught and her pussy dripped, and?—
“Smitty,” she whispered.
I’d been staring, because, fuck, she was gorgeous.
But she really wanted me to be doing.
So, I dropped to my knees, tugged the scrap of silk to the side, and fell onto her pussy. Tongue driving deep, mouth sucking hard, taking all the things I’d learned that she liked as we’d played and gotten to know each other and had moved slowly over the last weeks, and put them to good use.
This wasn’t a war of delicate, careful touches and a slow surrender.
This was a war of breaking her apart with pleasure, making her shatter time and again, and then putting her back together.
Except, she surprised the shit out of me.
Because I felt her legs flex around me only a moment before she launched herself forward and off the edge of the counter, grinding her pussy against my mouth and making me stagger for a moment.
Then her hands were threading into my hair, holding me tight. I had to react quickly so that she didn’t fall backward, sliding my hands up her back and pressing her in.
Her hips bucked as I rose to my feet and spun, keeping her pussy against my mouth, continuing to work her as her legs wrapped around my shoulders, dangled down my back. I used leverage to pin her back against the cabinets, to get my mouth exactly where I wanted it, where she needed it, deeper and harder, tongue sliding into the hot, liquid depths and?—
Her fingers clenched tight in my hair.
There.
Right fucking there. I kept working her, tongue thrusting and dragging up, pressing against her clit until?—
She shuddered. Those fingers got tighter
“Baby,” she moaned, hips bucking as much as they were able, against my face. “I need you inside me.”
