Page 46 of When You Blush
No one but me in over two motherfucking years.
I push my fingers back in and set a punishing pace with my tongue on her clit.
“Just like that. Oh God, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
I donothingdifferent. I hold steady and let her ride my face and fingers, let her reach for what she needs to let go.
And she lets go so fucking well.
Her hips lift, every muscle in her body tenses, and her legs start to shake as her orgasm moves through her, and she starts to fuckinggush.
“That’s my good fucking girl,” I croon as she makes an absolute mess, and I love every goddamn moment of it.
“Holy shit,” she pants, and then when she sees how soaked my shirt, my face, and the floor is, her face goes bright red. “Oh no. Oh God, Blake, that’s never?—”
“Whoa.” I push up so I can kiss her lips, gently holding the back of her neck so she doesn’t pull awayfrom me. “No, don’t spiral on me, sugar. This is so fucking hot.So.Fucking. Hot.”
“Um, I don’t think I’ve done that before.”
“Good.” I sound unhinged. I soundprimal.Because that’s the way I feel right now. “I want to own that from you. Just me. Now, come on. Let’s take this upstairs.”
I lift her into my arms, and she squeaks.
“Wait! We have to clean all of this up. Dinner, and my, um?—”
“Later.” I kiss her neck, not caring at all that I’m covered in her.
Christ, if I could get away with it, I’d never wash her off me.
“I need to worship you for a while, sweetheart.”
Chapter Twelve
HARPER
I’ve never related to women when they would make bold statements likesex with him was a religious experience.
I always blew it off as an exaggeration for the purposes of bragging to their friends that they had amazing sex. A dramatization, if you will.
A fun anecdote in the break room or at a party. Over text. A giggling conversation in a bar.
Fuck that.
I now believe them. And I’d like to go back in time, high-five every woman who’s ever said that in my company, and buy them a drink.
Because holy shit on a cracker, it’s a real thing.
And he hasn’t even been inside me yet.
“You’re quiet,” he murmurs before kissing my forehead as he carries me back to his bedroom. The sprawling house is only one story, so no stairs. When we arrive in the bedroom, he scowls as if he’s pissedthat he has to set me down, but he lowers me slowly to my feet.
“Just enjoying,” I reply and reach up to smooth the pad of my thumb over the line between his brows. “Would you do me a favor?”
“Literally anything. If it’s mine to give, it’s yours.” He pushes my skirt over my hips, and it pools around my feet in a floofy heap. “Name it.”
“Please get naked.”
He smiles, kisses my forehead, and then we work together to strip him out of the sexy black T-shirt and blue jeans he put on after his shower. The way his shirts hug his biceps makes my core tighten and my knees weaken. But in ablack T-shirt?Someone break out the smelling salts because I am done for.
