Page 32 of Vicious Arrangement
And she pushes me, hand planted on my chest. “No.”
I take her hand and walk her back to her door. “Yes.”
I hear a clink and she says, “Got them.”
“Only because you don’t play fair,” I say, taking them as she pulls them out. I manage to get the key on the first try and turn the lock. “Pure genius.”
“Where?”
Fuck, she turns me on. A part of me’s aware I’m drunker than I thought. My brain’s not working as straight as it should, but she’s sexy as hell, and so pretty it breaks something inside.
I lock onto those dilated blue eyes and I close the gap between us. “Right here. See?”
Without a thought, I kiss her, brushing my lips over hers. She tastes like whiskey and a sweetness that’s got to be her. It’s dark and full of want, and a fire flares between us as I deepen the kiss.
Her mouth opens, and her soft little moan is pure fucking fuel. Our tongues touch and dance slowly, like they’re trying out new steps that immediately work.
She kisses me back, her slight reticence melting, and the kiss blooms into full hungry desire.
My higher brain shuts down, and I open her door, walking her in, not breaking the kiss. I close it and kiss her across the room. Then I break it.
“Bedroom?”
“I don’t?—”
“Have one? This is meant to be our wedding night.”
Her fingers are on my cock, massaging, makes me fall to pieces. I’m throbbing, so fucking hard now it hurts, and she’s fucking working me through my clothes.
“Back there.”
I grab her, throw her over my shoulder, and glance around. There’s a blob in one corner, probably a floor cushion, one of those big ones, but the living room won’t do. I stalk through to where I spy the corner of a bed and throw her on it. I lift the dress, and I know this isn’t going to be soft and gentle. She’s dragging my face down, kissing me, and one hand starts attacking my pants, undoing them so she can touch my flesh.
We can do it slow later, I can fucking tie her down and explore her if I want, but as I stroke up her thighs against her panties, I need her. She’s fucking soaked.
I pull them to one side and plunge two fingers into her tight heat.
She arches her back, hisses, “Yes!”
And oh fuck, I’m not going to make it if she keeps up the pull and stroke of my cock. Her pressure’s perfect, her fingers don’t quite reach around and she’s also playing with the head and the precum there.
Touching her is like a religious experience, the velvet wetness that special heat, the way she ripples a little against my fingers as I curve them with each thrust, stroking over her G-spot.
Her gasps and little sounds of surprise stroke my dick, making it harder, making it thicker, like someone’s stuffed steel in me. I’m that hard.
Every part of me is like an addict, jonesing for more, for a taste of something I haven’t had, something that I instinctively know will be better than any other hit, any other fuck in my life.
I move my mouth from hers, driven by something urgent, something wild, to mark her as mine. To sink my teeth into herlike I can sear a claim into her, a special tattoo built of lust and a chemistry the likes I’ve never known.
This shouldn’t be this good.
Yeah, I’m drunk, and so is she, but she’s as driven as me. The urge to touch and fuck, rough and fast is in us both. Her fingers shake as she jerks me, smearing precum on her hand to add a little slick to the drag.
I slide over her clit with my thumb as I bite her bottom lip, going in for another taste before kissing my way down her throat, finding all the delicate and delicious spots. I tongue her jugular, pushing with my tongue to drink in the erratic thunder of blood through it.
She smells so good, the gardenias seduce me, the spice behind the woody undertone drives my libido impossibly higher, and I drop kissing bites along the length of her throat.
Then I find a spot. I push into her, up, curving my fingers to taunt her as I rub inside, and I sink my teeth in, thumb swirling over her clit.
