Page 107 of Sassy Love
One hot, languid sweep of his tongue through my center and I’m buckling against the wall. “Fu—Oh, god.”
My hands slap to the tile by my sides. I try desperately to hold myself up as he licks and suckles my clit. Heat pools rapidly in my core.
He bites down, and I jerk against the wall. “The hell?”
A brief grin plays over his lips before he suckles away the sting, and I melt against the tile. “A—again, please. Lawson.”
“You like that, baby?”
I nod, the desperate movement harried.
“We can do better.”
He dives back in, flicking my sensitive nub with his tongue. Two fingers push into my aching center, and I whimper, eyes shuttering closed as my head lolls to the side.
An orgasm builds, weaving its delicious heat through my core, starting to radiate.
The sting registers as he bites down again. This time, he pumps his fingers slowly as he suckles away the discomfort.
And I explode around him.
One hand grips down on my hip, holding my pussy to his face, and I rock through the blissful waves. Lawson coaxes every incredible wave higher, pumping his fingers, sucking down hard, not letting the contact break. My mouth agape, I can’t take my eyes off him as he wrings out the last waves tumbling through my center.
Going limp against the tile, I try to find words to say who knows what. What do you say to the man whose face gave you the orgasm of your life?
Pretty sure those words don’t exist . . .
The buzz starts to melt into my bones as my breath returns to normal, and all I want is to see the way he breaks under the same scrutiny.
“Up.” I tug on his hair, sliding a hand over his jaw as he stands. “Wall.”
He shakes his head. “Shower first, Princess. Then I’m all yours.”
“Fine. But just so you’re aware... this goes both ways.”
“It always has, Carlie.”
We’re not just talking about the pleasure we can give each other, I don’t think.
Needing a moment to process that one line, I kiss his cheek and push through the shower door to grab my towel. I dry off and find him a towel before padding to the bed. Checking my phone for any messages or missed calls from Mills—there are zero—I lie on the bed, wrapped in my towel.
The ceiling stares down at me as I scan its pale surface, hunting for the meaning in the last few weeks. How everything I believe is currently being challenged by the very naked, very gorgeous man in my shower.
The water shuts off, and I breathe in a lungful. My body still buzzes with his touch. With the thought of touching him. Seeing his handsome damn face wrecked. I sit up as he pads toward the bed, a towel wrapped around his hips.
He runs a hand through his damp hair, biceps flexing, eyes pinning me to the bed where I sit. But when he closes the distance, I do something I swore I would never.
I drop from the edge of the bed to my knees.
I look up.
I’m on my knees. For a man.
The part that pulls relentlessly at my heartstrings is why I want to do this. I’m desperate to make him feel good. To make him fall apart for me.
Determined, I slide a finger behind the towel and lift my gaze to his.
“On your knees for me, Princess?”
