Page 69 of A Photo Finish
She moves swiftly and sits down before looking back up at me like a little girl in trouble, her hands pressed between her knees, tits squeezed together between her arms.
“You gonna get shy on me now?” I take a step, wincing at the pain in my stump. But not caring.
“No,” she whispers back. “I’ll take my shorts off if you take the prosthetic off. I can tell it’s hurting you.”
I groan. That’s a level of honesty I’m not sure I’m ready for. But when she adds, “I’m not wearing any panties,” I bend down and get to work peeling the sock down so I can remove it. The minute it pulls free, my leg feels better, but my brain doesn’t.
I feel exposed. Completely naked, right in front of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Young. Vivacious. Whole.
“You are so fucking hot.” The words rush out of her as she licks her lips, and I realize she’s not even looking at my stump. Her eyes are bouncing around my body hungrily, like she can’t decide which part she likes best. Pure lust. Pure desire. And suddenly I don’t give a fuck about my leg. If Hilary was the poison, Violet is the antidote.
I lean down, resting my hands on the arms of the puffy chair, as I come to kneel before her. She leans back and yanks her shorts down, and when they get stuck around her thighs, I lend her a hand. Savoring the feel of them sliding over her skin, of the flex of her calves as I pull them off her feet. And then with one hand covering each of her tiny knees, I open her legs.
So much fucking better in real life.
I slide my palms up her inner thighs, giving her a tight squeeze there, before letting one hand continue up over her mound.
“Oh, god,” she huffs out, looking down at me, at my hands, blue eyes gone dark with yearning.
“Is this what you’ve been dreaming about, little Violet?” I ask as I hold her spread open for me.
“This . . . this is beyond.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”
Her hips buck in response, and I beat my chest internally. She’s so damn eager. Forme.
I trail a thumb over her seam, and she whimpers. So, I do it again. More firmly this time. Parting her lips. “Violet. You are so fucking wet for me.”
“Always,” she whispers, and I groan at her confession.
Why did I take so long to get here?
I slide my thumb into her up to the first joint, and she sighs, her eyes fluttering shut. She looks so fucking good that this time, I sink two fingers into her wet heat, feeling her stretch around me.
I gaze up at her, watching those perfect pink nipples turning to hard points, watching goosebumps spray over her arms. “I wonder how a pussy this pretty tastes.”
Her eyes fly open, just in time to watch me slide those same two fingers into my mouth.
“Jesus Christ,” she mutters, watching me with rapt fascination as I savor her.
And then I pull her down toward me and dive in.
21
Violet
I’m having an out-of-body experience.I’m batting so far out of my league. Cole Harding is so fucking hot. I thought he was from that first day he came storming toward me in the winner’s circle. Older. Richer. Better looking. But the sight of his inky, disheveled hair between my legs is something else.
It’s primal. It’s delicious torture.
The way he wraps his arms around my legs. The rasp of his stubble against my inner thighs. That goddamn tongue.
I feel so small with him holding me open. So exposed. But not like last time. This time he’shere,and the way he looks at me—dark and possessive—makes my stomach flip.
I moan, making a sound I’m positive I’ve never made before this moment. A sound that would normally make me blush. But I’m beyond blushing. My entire body is on fire. I’m one big blush.
I roll my hips up toward his face, and he pushes back in harder, devouring me, propelling me higher. Tongue, lips, teeth, everything in perfect proportion. The man is a master.
