Page 257 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
Hell, I’m terrified of the thought of it ending.
But I push all those fears aside and lose myself in the taste of her, the feel of her skin beneath my mouth, and every single tiny sound she makes. I enjoy each time the muscles in her stomach clench, like when my tongue dips into her navel, or slides up between her breasts again.
By the time I finish lapping up the molten mess, my lips, mouth, and face are coated in the amber goo. And I’m not sure I’ve cleaned anything. It’s spread across her, a honeyed wreckage that she’s enjoying way too much.
I unbuckle her jeans and slide down the zipper before I spin her around and slap her ass in the tight jeans.
She yelps, jumps, and then smirks at me over her shoulder. “I spank back.”
Fuck me, she’s the sexiest human being alive.
I dip my finger in the coolness of the honey and coat a trail down the curve of her spine. The liquid shimmers in the light.
“Ready for me?” The roughness of my tone is like a storm over the water.
Before she can respond, my tongue presses firmly against her skin, tasting the sweetness of the honey mingled with the faint salt of her sweat, a combination that drives me wild.
She gasps.
“You taste so good.”
My fingers dip into the waistband of her jeans, and I slide the fabric over her hips. Her panties are next. She steps out of them, her feet bare on the blanket, and her naked backside all mine.
I swear softly under my breath, and the sound muffles against her skin. “You’re beautiful.”
I reach for the honey again, drizzling it over her ass. The golden liquid slides down the curve of her cheeks, pooling slightly in the hollows.
I never thought I’d ever be mixing honey into a sensual scenario, and now, I don’t know how I lived my whole life without it—without her.
I lean in, my tongue licking and tracing the contours of her body.
Her hands clench into fists at her side, and she tips her head, hair tumbling down her backside.
The sensation is overwhelming. The sweetness of the honey, and the heat of her skin.
When I finish, I spin her around, and the breath slams out of me.
42: WHOLE HEART CONNECTION
HART
––––––––
THERE IT IS.
In the hip dip, peeking through soft curls.
Half a heart inked just above her hip bone, the black imprint embracing her soft skin.
Our tattoo.
The little arrow at the bottom edge of the half heart points inward, aching to be complete, and matching mine, where the arrow points at the dip of the heart, connecting the hearts—connecting us.
I trace my finger over the line, and my chest tightens, knowing it’s been waiting all this time for me. And how is the position so perfect, so right, in the exact spot we discussed.
“You like it?” Her fingers run through my hair, drawing it aside so she can look at my face.
I rise to my feet, sliding my hands up her waist and pulling her close. The honey clings between us, sticky and sweet.
