Page 22 of The Parent Pick-Up
The taste of her floods my mouth, and I want more. The rush of pleasure in my body is unfamiliar. I’ve been starving to kiss her since the first night we met.
And now that we’ve started, I can’t stop.
My hands roam up her back, over the plush fabric of her robe. I cup the back of her neck and wind my other arm around her waist. The clutch is a little desperate. I should feel embarrassed by my obvious show of need.
But embarrassment is the last thing on my mind as Ivy opens her mouth with a tiny moan. I sweep my tongue across her lower lip, tasting her sweet, earthy flavor.
Ivy moans again, and the throaty sound has my dick standing up at attention. Pleasure zings through my body, lighting tiny sparks that have been cold so long I thought they were dead.
The heat between us sizzles, exploding over every nerve in my body.
I slide my hand into her hair and tug the elastic band, setting her hair free. It falls around her shoulders in waves, filling the air with the scent of her perfume.
I breathe her in. Taste her tongue. Bury my hands in the silk of her hair.
She cups my cheek, her fingers sliding over the coarse shadow of my beard. Her exploration is thorough, and her tongue is curious, sliding over mine in a tentative thrust. We taste and touch, feeling our way around each other like two lost souls venturing out from the darkness together.
Her leg wraps around mine, and she presses against me. When we are hip to hip, I realize she’s naked under the robe.
My body jerks in instant reaction.
She’s naked.
The thought sends me into a spiral of need. Longing throbs through my body.
My hand drifts down to her ass, and I squeeze, urging her hips forward. She grinds against me exactly how I’d hoped she would, and I feel the scorching heat of her bare flesh against my jeans.
She gasps when she feels the hard ridge of my dick against her. The sound she makes is pure delight. Need shoots straight through me at the rawness of the noise.
My heart races, and every muscle in my body stiffens. I grip her with both hands, lifting her until she’s off her feet and in my arms. She wraps her legs around my hips, and we are cinched together. I stumble a few steps forward, finding my way to the nearest surface where I set her down and peel open her robe.
She leans back, arching her throat so I can trail hot, wet kisses over her exposed skin. I part the robe more, pushing it off her shoulders with as much patience as I can muster.
My heart slams in my chest, and my breath labors. Teasing her with my lips and tongue, I explore every inch of her neck, her collarbone, and her shoulder, before dipping lower to kiss the top of her breast.
Her hands thread through my hair, and she holds my head with a tight grip, guiding my mouth where she needs it. I leave a wet trail of sizzling kisses to her nipple, then tug the tight little bud into my mouth.
She grinds against me, crying out with pleasure as I swirl my tongue around her hard flesh and suck. I push her back, so she’s lying flat against the hard surface.
There’s a crash as something falls to the floor, but neither of us stops to investigate. Bracing my hand next to her head, I hover over her and kiss my way across her chest.
I rub her nipple between my thumb and finger while I lick between the valley of her breasts. She tastes tangy with salt and earth.
She tastes real.
I kiss her chest until she’s writhing beneath me, squirming with pleasure and demanding more.
She tugs my mouth up to hers, and we kiss greedily, all shyness gone. Our tongues collide, then lavish soothing strokes across swollen lips. Our teeth nibble and tease until the kiss is so hungry and wild, I have to break away for air.
Pushing her robe to the floor, I run my hands down her body. I drink her in with my eyes, letting my gaze fall on every curve, every dip of her slim body.
Sweat glistens on her skin, and a flush spreads across her chest. The rasp of my beard has left marks on her tender skin. I press my lips to the burn marks, soothing them with soft kisses.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, and she tugs on my scalp until I look up at her. Our gazes lock, and I recognize the foggy glaze of desire that must mirror my own.
“Not here,” she says, her voice husky.
I glance around and notice where we are, surpassing a laugh. We’re on top of a craft table covered in supplies. And that crash I’d heard earlier was a tin of glitter falling to the floor.
