Page 37 of Whiskey Kisses For the Mountain Man
I nod frantically, twisting my hips, chasing his fingers.
Owen lightly bites down on my right nipple. I cry out again, my back arching off the bed. “Words, Snowflake. You want myfingers inside you? Want me to make you come with my fingers? Or mouth?”
Um. I’m supposed to choose?
“Both?” I ask.
The sinful grin that man gives me just gave me a mini orgasm.
“This pussy’s going to be greedy for me, I just know it.”
“Omylanta,” I moan.
Chuckling, Owen’s mouth travels down my soft body, pressing hard kisses whenever it dimples, folds, or rolls. I feel like a goddess in his arms. He licks at the crease where my stomach dips, and soon, his mouth finds my swollen bud of nerves.
“Oh my word,” I pant when he licks me there. “I’ve never…I’ve never…” I can’t get it out. The sensation is everything I’ve read others experience and more. “More, more, more,” I whimper.
“You’ve never, what, Snowflake?”
I shake my head. My silver-spoon upbringing holds my tongue hostage. The years my mother forced etiquette on my speech. My entire adulthood, being reprimanded if I ever so much as said hell or damn.
“I want to hear you say it, Lettie. You’ve never had someone suck your little clit?” he asks. My voice whines, wanting to release. “You’ve never had someone lick you till you came?”
I shake my head. Owen removes his tongue. I lift my head, struggling to pace my breathing. “Owen,” I cry.
He rests his fingers at my opening, teasing around it. “I will lick you, I will suck your clit between my lips while I slide my fingers inside your pussy. I will make this gorgeous body come, tasting you and begging my cock not to come too early.”
“Biscuits,” I curse.
He chuckles. “But only if you say, Owen, lick my clit. Make me come, please.”
My eyes widen. I’ve never voiced those words out loud.
What if I sound dumb? What if sexy is the last thing I sound like, and I ruin everything, and Owen doesn’t want to have sex anymore?
He must see the battle on my face because he sits up. My body deflates.
I ruined everything.
Owen takes my hand and rests it on his hard-as-steel erection. “You feel this?” I nod. “I want you, Lettie. As you are. Cute Christmas verbiage and all. I want inside you, and I will sink deep into this pussy soon.”
Okay, good. I didn’t ruin everything.
“I don’t want you holding back, Snowflake. I want you to be free to be the sexual goddess you are just by breathing.” Unconsciously, my hand squeezes his impressive length. Owen groans. “I’m leaking precome for you.” He guides my hand up and down. “Want to feel me naked?”
I’m dying to. I nod and take the reins. I’m proving to him–and myself–I’m not holding back. I want all of him, too. I guide our hands this time and tuck them inside his briefs. The heat and soft skin wrapped around steel turn me on so much, I’m making a mess of the sheets already.
Owen’s eyes struggle to stay open as I wrap my hand around him as best as I can and firmly stroke him.
“Fuck yes, Snowflake. Just like that,” he instructs, his hips jerking at my touch.
Seeing him react this way, knowing he looks at me the way he is right now and responds to my touch, I find a part of myself that I’ve wished I could express. The woman who, in the dark of night, alone in bed, reading her romance books, dreamt of beingthe sexually confident woman who demands what she wants, expresses what she likes.
“I want you inside me,” I start. His massive length twitches in my hand as the tip drips. Owen pulls his briefs off completely as I keep my hold on him. “I want your mouth on my clit.” Okay, that felt good to say.
Owen pauses his movements, his nose flaring like a bull in heat, ready to claim.
“I want you to make me come, Owen. I want you to…fuck me.”
