Page 29 of Just Shred

He runs his lips over mine, his breath ghosting over my parted lips. “If I’m being perfectly honest with you here, babe, I’m not looking for someone to start any sort of relationship with, and definitely not someone like you.”

“Like me?” I gasp when he moves his thumb up and finds my clit through the fabric of my panties and presses down.

My eyes travel into the back of my skull, and I suck in a breath. He’s an asshole—I need to keep reminding myself of that fact. Even if he’s applying just the right amount of pressure there and slowly skims the pad of his thumb back and forth while I shudder at the tingling sensation.

“Someone who doesn’t like the snowboard life, who talks too freaking much, and has a tendency to piss me the fuck off and rile me up all in the same sentence. Above all, your tits are way too small,” he drawls, waggling his brows and licking his lip when he cradles my pussy. He grinds his palm against my pulsing clit, and I cry out his name.

“My tits are not small,” I growl. “You assh—” I swear when he pushes down hard with his thumb, pinching my engorged nub.

He cuts me off as his long middle finger teases my slit through the damp fabric. “Yeah, they are. I looked at them hard and long when I was changing your shirt,” he groans, pressing a trail of wet kisses against my throat.

“You are an asshole. I was right the first time,” I angrily moan, my back arching off the bed when he sucks on my nipple through the fabric of my shirt.

My fingers travel into his long hair while he pushes my shirt up, revealing my bare breasts. “I was fucking kidding. Relax, babe,” he growls, blowing his hot breath against my puckered nipple.

“I took off your bra when you were passed out,” he says, nuzzling his face between my breasts. He’s a liar; he loves my breasts. Rubbing his stubble against my left breast, I let my fingers travel into his long hair, and a deep satisfied groan escapes his chest.

He traces the contours of my tits, and sure as shit, I’m not wearing my black lace bra.

“Really? Have you heard about the whole me too movement, buddy?” I growl, grabbing his package between my fingers and pinching a little.

“Ace, you have your hand on my dick, so we’re well past me too. And remember, you actually measured my dick with your hand when you thought I was out.” He chuckles.

The man doesn’t even blink but keeps staring at me while I slowly turn my vice-like grip into a caress. He has a point with my hand covering his package, and I’m more than liking it. The heat of him feels hot against my palm, and when he twitches, I yelp.

“You don’t have to be afraid of the size. Okay, maybe a little.” He laughs.

“Please, so you’re a boob guy?” I ask, letting him go.

“And butt,” he jokes. “I like them both. Your ass is more than okay, though,” he says, biting on his tongue. “Heart shaped and the perfect color to turn red with my palm.”

“If you weren’t smiling at me like you are, I would roast your ass. Or punch you in the face like you deserve,” I threaten, tightening my grip on his ass again.

He growls and grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head. Shit, the guy is strong. I try to break free, but he keeps my fingers in his grip, lacing them together.

He laughs, his body shudders, and his crotch presses into mine with each vibration from his chest. I stifle a groan when he dips his head and kisses below my jaw, sucking on the tender flesh there. This only brings a bigger smile to his face. He swivels his hips to underline his point. Bastard… hot freaking bastard.

“I’m just telling you the truth, like you did, going on and on about Shane while I was carrying you before you passed out,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t go on and on.”

He narrows his eyes and lets out a deep breath. “Let’s fight about it, babe, then kiss and make up. I did like the lace a lot,” he jokes while I slap his chest, and he grunts, swirling his hips into me. I whimper when he hits my clit with his index finger, slowly rubbing back and forth until I’m panting and praying for release.

“But I’ve been walking around and riding down the slopes with you holding my hand, when my dick was almost bursting out of my pants,” he says, looking deep into my eyes, while hooking his fingers under the waistband of my underwear.

My back arches when he tugs on my panties. “That’s what those sweaty hands of yours do to me,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “Let me fuck you, then I can get it out of my system.”

“If you are going to say fuck one more time, so help me God,” I grit out, looking into those too gray for his own good eyes.

He chuckles. “I am, and you like it,” he purrs in my ear. He bites my earlobe, and murmurs, “I want to taste more than your tits.” I grab his hair, hard, coaxing a hoarse groan from him.

“This is a nightmare,” I say, trying to find my voice, running my fingers through his long hair.

“I don’t think so. And I like the way you keep tugging on my hair and trying to press my head down to your sweet-smelling cunt.”

“Damn you,” I whisper, and he growls.

He glances up. “I want you.”

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