Page 67 of Enticing the Enforcer
“Every damn night since we met.” He smirks, then lowers his mouth again, trailing kisses down my stomach until I can barely think straight.
“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, voice rough.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
That’s all he needs. My jeans are around my ankles before I realize he’s undone them, panties following in one swift tug. The cold air hits me for half a second before his warm mouth replaces it, lips sealing over me, tongue lashing my clit.
I cry out, gripping the desk edge until my knuckles ache.
He groans against me, like he’s the one unraveling, and the vibrations send a shiver up my spine. His fingers join his mouth, sliding inside, curling just right. I buck against him, shameless, the wet sounds of his tongue and the rasp of his breath filling the room.
“I love your pussy, you know that?” He spreads my folds, then flicks his tongue inside.
“I’m getting the idea,” I breathe, close to falling apart.
One more hot kiss, and I’m gone, spiraling apart on the desk of room 110, with Jefferson Parks between my thighs, giving me the kind of memory I know will burn in my veins forever.
I’m still trembling when he pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, pupils blown wide. He looks wrecked, and I love it.
But I don’t want to just be another girl in Room 110. I want to be the one he remembers–the one who gives him something he’s never had before.
“Jefferson…” My voice is still ragged from the orgasm, but I press my palms to his chest, stopping him before he can lean in to kiss me.
“What?” His brows knit like he’s worried I’ll bolt.
“I don’t want this to be just another hookup spot for you. Another story you can tell.” His mouth opens, but I shake my head, cutting him off. “I want it to be ours. Something different. Something you haven’t done with anyone else.”
He searches my face, and I can see it, he gets it. That need in me to stake a claim. To matter. Then I smile, sliding my hand down his chest, over his stomach, stopping just at the waistband of his jeans. “You told me once what you wanted to do with me.”
He freezes. “What did I say? Because there’s a never-ending list of things I want to do with you.”
I lean closer, whispering against his ear. “That you wanted to fuck my tits.”
The sound he makes is half-growl, half-groan, his cock straining hard against the denim. His hands grip my hips, like he’s holding himself back.
“Angel…” He says it like a prayer, like I’ve undone him. I push off the desk and pull my panties back on before perchingon one of the hard desk chairs, face level with his waist. He stands before me and tugs his jeans down until his cock springs free, thick and heavy, flushed with need. My mouth waters just looking at him.
He’s already panting, running a hand through his hair, the other running down my neck. “You don’t have to–”
“I want to,” I cut in. My fingers curl around him, stroking him once, watching his head tip back. Then I squeeze my breasts together with my hands, thumbs running over my nipples.
“Fuck, Ingrid.” His voice is guttural, his hips jerking on instinct. His hands take over, lifting my tits in his big, wide palms. I’ve never been a small girl. Always tall for my age, developed early. The way this man touches me makes me forget every insecurity I ever had.
I duck my head and take his cock in my mouth, getting him slippery and wet, before releasing him. The weight of him, hot and slick, sliding over my skin makes me throb all over again. I glance up at him through my lashes. “Like this?”
He looks down, eyes dark and hungry, watching himself disappear and reappear between the swell of my breasts. “Exactly like that,” he grits out between thrusts.
I start to move, rocking my body in rhythm, squeezing tighter to give him more friction. He fists my hair, guiding me, his cock dragging over my skin, the tip smearing precum across my chest.
“Angel, baby, fuck,” he groans.
I flick my tongue out, catching him every time he thrusts forward, giving little sucks that make him shudder. The sound of his breath, the low curses spilling from his lips, it’s everything.
This isn’t just sex. It’s bigger, it’s the way we meet each other’s needs. I’ve never had this with anyone before.
I press my tits tighter, working him harder, faster, until he’s trembling, hips jerking with no control. His hands pinch, andit hurts in a good way, my nipples raw from the stroke of his thumbs.
“Fuck–” His voice cracks as he looks down at me, desperation in every line of his body. “I’m not gonna last.”
