Page 23 of Small Town Firsts
His hands came around to my front, cupping my breasts to lift them high for his mouth. He dragged his beard along the fragile skin and I threw my head back with a broken sigh.
I rocked against him lightly, looking for more, seeking out the friction I needed. Hell, I might be able to just come from his mouth on my breasts.
I gripped his hair. “God, you’re good at that.”
He grinned up at me from the valley of my cleavage. “Sunshine and your skin were made for one another.”
“Yeah, well, that skin has never seen it.”
“Sacrilege. You should be naked all the time.”
I laughed before it tripped into a groan when he took one nipple into his mouth and sucked deeply before letting it free with a pop. That sharp canine of his winked at me as he closed down his teeth over the tip and pulsed a little.
“So sensitive. Like perfect raspberries.” He twirled the tip of his tongue around the hard flesh and then gentled with the flat of his tongue for a long lick. “But you taste like my apples. My ruined apples, which I will forever be grateful for.”
“For your ruined batch?” I tried to get my brain back online for a conversation while we were deep in foreplay.
Actually, this was better than any full-on sex I’d had before.
“If the mash hadn’t created too much sugar, then I wouldn’t have you in my lap, now would I?” He dragged his nose around the underside of my breast. “I wouldn’t know that you wear a bikini sometimes.”
He dragged his fingers down my midriff. “Honey-colored here, lighter gold here.” Then back up to cup my breast. “And the surprising raspberry here. I expected dark.”
“I never really noticed.” I was more worried about shoving them in a bra so I didn’t hurt myself with the weight of them getting in the way.
He set me back on his thighs a little, which was hard to do with the angle of the chair. His rough fingertips danced over the tips of my breasts. “This curve and how high they point? This should be in a sketch book with how fucking perfect they are.”
“Stop.” I couldn’t help the bubble of laughter. “No one wants to see me in a sketchbook, Viking.”
His brows snapped low over his fierce eyes. “I can show you a museum full of gorgeous women with miles of curves who inspired artists.”
“Guess I was born in the wrong century.” I stroked away the furrow in his brow. “So fierce.”
“Evidently it’s part of my purpose to show you how fucking gorgeous you are.”
Now I really did laugh. “Purpose?”
“There are people who are supposed to come into your life when you need them. Moments you’re meant to have. I didn’t expect you, Kira Webb, but I’m not going to ignore this between us.”
I’d never been anyone’s purpose in life.
And that seemed way too big for sitting here in the sun with my top off, with a gorgeous man under me. “I don’t need?—”
“You need the words.” His hand raced over the swell of my ass to slide through the frayed denim fringe of my cutoffs to my panties. “You deserve them,” he said low against my lips before he slanted his mouth over mine.
I hummed into the kiss before it turned into a strangled groan as he dipped his fingers into my slick slit. He pulsed two thick fingers inside me and ground the front of me into his bulge.
My breasts were flattened into his skin. The heat of the sun overhead and the molten muscled flesh of him under me made my head swim.
I tore my mouth away and gulped in a huge breath. “Oh, God.”
He dragged his teeth along my jawline to my ear. “You mean oh, Viking.”
And for the first time, I laughed as I fell right into the shuddering vortex of an orgasm. He held me tight against him as his fingers plunged deep inside me, stretching me as if he could crawl inside and snatch the pleasure out of me.
“Soaking my fingers. Fuck, you’re so wet. Wet for me, Sunshine?”
“Yes.” My voice was little more than a whisper.
