Page 72 of Clash
“Clash, please… I can’t.”
But then his hand was between my thighs, rubbing sweet sensual circles over my clit as his other massaged my breast.
“I want to taste you,” he gritted out. His lips and tongue trailing the invisible track his fingers just went. I was already wet, my body primed and ready for him.
Deft fingers maneuvered my panties down my legs, until my ass met the cold sand, and my thighs were lifted onto his shoulders. The moon’s reflection created a sparkling ripple across the slow-moving waves, illuminating Clash’s handsome face as he took his place between my thighs. He kissed his way down them, making sure that he had me writhing in complete ecstasy before his lips ever pressed on the most sensitive part of me.
He smirked, enjoying how I threw my head back and moaned, his tongue lapping at my juices as a single digit was inserted inside of me and began to fuck me senseless.
“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered as his fingers picked up their pace. My fingers dove into the safety of his hair, pulling and tugging on the dark auburn strands until I was practically squeezing him between my thighs.
Not once did Eric ever go down on me. He said men were the ones who needed to be pleased, not women. Moan after moan came as he punished me with his mouth in the most wicked away, eliciting cries of pleasure I’d never experienced before. My body craved his touch, anticipating the orgasm that was brimming just below the surface.
“That’s it, Gina,” he encouraged. “Come for me.”
And I did. Hard and so fucking fast, that my mind went screwy and I couldn’t focus on anything but the stars swirling above my head.
He crawled up my body, his mouth meeting mine in a sexy fucking kiss.
“Fuck me, please,” I begged.
He pressed a finger against my mouth, silently shushing me. “I want to,” he whispered as he took my hand and moved it down his front, allowing me to grope the biggest part of him. “As you can see, I want you bad. But not here… or now.”
“Why?” I practically whimpered, needing to feel his cock between my thighs.
“Because you’re not ready. At least not yet. I can taste the wine on your tongue and see the inebriation in your eyes. I want our first time to be mutual, and something you won’t regret in the morning.”
I don’t know why, but his blatant rejection upset me. Instead of accepting it, I pushed against him, my eyes narrowing. “Get off of me.”
“Gina, please.”
“I said get off of me, Clash.”
He reluctantly got up, a look of shame skirting his beautiful hazel eyes. “Please, Gina, don’t be mad.”
“Mad? I’m not fucking mad, Clash. Not for this. You know what I am mad for? The money I could’ve had to get me to Vegas. The way you disrupted my life and fucked me over, and now I’m stuck here until god knows when, all because you couldn’t keep your big mouth shut.”
“Let me explain…” he started to say, but I held up my hand, dismissing him.
“Take me home, Clash.”
“As you wish,” he sadly said, helping me up to my feet. After pulling up my panties, and giving him shitty directions to my place, he started up his bike, and took the long way home. Every once in a while, I’d see him sadly staring at me in one of his bike’s mirrors, his face a miserable mixture of regret and shame. Good, he should be upset with himself. I gave him an in, and the fucker just chose to ignore it.
His bike came to a stop in the driveway, his engine sputtering as he turned it off. He shot me a wary smile, one that only pissed me off more.
“You do look beautiful tonight,” he complimented, but I didn’t care.
“Goodbye, Clash.”
“Gina, please…”
“I said goodbye. Get on your bike and get the fuck out of here.”
Before he could say anything else, a terrified Alex came running out of the house, throwing himself around Clash’s legs. “Please don’t go Mr. Clash. Please.”
“Alex, let Mr. Clash go. He has other places to be.”
Alex shook his head vehemently, shooting me a weary look. “If Mr. Clash goes, the bad man will return.”
