Page 51 of You're so Bad

Her lips tip up, her eyes mischievous the way I like them. “I think you already know the answer.”

I make a pact with myself to blow Champ out of the water, not that it should be difficult. I want to give her something to remember—and if I do, maybe she’ll be game to make the rest of these wedding-related events more fun for both of us.

I open that door quick as I can, then lower Bean to the ground before shutting us inside and locking it. Shauna tugs me to her for another kiss. My Tiger’s hungry, and I like it. I like it a lot more than I should, but that’s a thought I shut down quickly, because I don’t want to let anything take away from my enjoyment. Or hers. I lift her up because she’s short, and she wraps her legs around my waist.

It really has been too long since I’ve had a woman, because the feel of her pressed up against my dick makes me see stars. It must be doing it for her, too, because she kisses me so hard our teeth clink, her nails digging into my back like she remembers what I said to her earlier. Excitement beats through my blood as it all drains down to my cock.

I carry her to the kitchen like that, barely able to see, but I have my hand wrapped around her, so if we bump into something, I’ll feel it first. She makes a little humming noise in the back of her throat, and it’s so sexy I feel like a teenager again.

By the time we stumble into the kitchen, I’m panting into her mouth, her nails still digging into my back. When I set her down on the granite counter, she pulls back, her eyes bright. The look of hunger on her face is the best thing I’ve ever seen—so I decide I’d like to see something even better and pull off one of the straps of her dress so I can get an eyeful of her tits. A bra is no barrier to a determined man.

But there’s some strange gluey pinkish tan thing sticking to each of them, as if she dipped them into glue at that craft prison we just left.

“What the fuck is this?” I ask in horror.

She bursts out laughing, running a hand back through her hair, leaving it messed up in that sexy way of hers. Her tits are bobbing with her laughter, and if I weren’t worried about touching that glue shit, my hands would be all over them.

“It’s a bra, you ignoramus.”

“Going for gold and pulling out a twenty dollar word this time, huh? I’ve seen a lot of bras, and I’ve never seen one that looks like that.”

She takes down the other strap of her dress, then puts her hands on her tits, bringing life back to my cock. I watch, riveted, as she peels off the bra thing, setting it on the counter. She does a doubletake—maybe she disapproves of the way I store bananas—but I can’t spare much attention for anything other than her chest. She has the most perfect nipples I’ve ever seen in my life, small and budded and dark pink. The sight of her on Mrs. Ruiz’s kitchen counter, tits out, dress hanging down to her waist, is unbelievably hot. God help me if the old broad ever finds out—it was rule one in the literal book I was given when I moved in here—but regret doesn’t exist in my vocabulary tonight.

“Did she put glue on you?” I ask her tits, lifting my hands up to cup them. “She won’t say it, but she’s sorry. I’ll treat you real nice.”

“Are you talking to my tits?” she asks, laughing again, and I can feel them bouncing in my hands, which makes my cock even harder.

“Yes, and they’re talking back to me, baby.”

I catch her rolling her eyes as I lower my head to take her nipple in my mouth, sucking and working it with my tongue. I glance up at her as she leans her head back, her throat long and slender, and I want to kiss and bite it. It’s at times like this that one mouth, two hands, and a dick doesn’t seem like enough for the work a man needs to do. I want to touch her everywhere, to show her that there are some things I’m good at.

As I move to the second nipple, I slide her legs open for me and reach in with one hand to trace her panties. They’re damp, which makes me think I’m not doing my job, because I want them soaking. I run my fingers over her while I suck, then start pulling the panties down her legs. She lifts her body weight up with her arms, letting me tug them off. When they fall onto the floor, I pull off her nipple, leaving it shining slightly in the dim light.

A satisfied sound escapes her, and she slides her hand into my hair and grips it, making me grin.

“You can talk to my tits anytime you’d like if you suck them like that,” she says in a voice that makes me feel like a king among men again.

“Don’t think I won’t. In a couple of minutes you’ll be begging me to sing lullabies to your pussy.”

She laughs, even though there’s a different kind of light in her eyes—a hunger that I very much feel too. “I don’t want you to put it to sleep, Leonard. I’m kind of looking for the opposite.”

“Good.” I lean in to kiss her, because she’s the kind of gorgeous you want to touch and taste at every opportunity available to you. She’s especially gorgeous now, set out for me on the counter like a feast, her legs parted in a tease, her nipples on display and wet from my mouth. Then I get on my knees, because I need to taste her elsewhere too.

“I like the sight of you on your knees in front of me,” she says, while I spread her legs open wider.

“And I like the sight of your legs spread wide, your pussy bared for me. You should try that look more often.”

She swears, and I smile as I trace along her open thighs with the tips of my fingers, loving the feel of her soft skin and the way it gets softer as it leads in to the promised land.

“Take off your shirt,” she says. I like that it’s not phrased as a question, so I do it, shrugging it off as I kneel there at her feet. Her eyes are hungry as they move over me, pausing at my scar, at Gidget. I don’t want to think about any of that right now, so I lean in and kiss her thigh. Moving in toward the goal like I’m the real champ, I use my other hand to give her clit a tease, letting it know it can’t hide from me. Her little moan makes me grin against her skin, and then she’s weaving a hand through my hair again and gripping. My cock is uncomfortably hard, but I want to start by giving her a taste of what I want to do for her—andtoher.

I keep moving toward my goal, my heart racing, the scent of her making me dizzy because I want her so fucking bad, I can barely handle myself. Then I finally get there, and I bury my face between her legs, hoisting her thighs onto my shoulders. Her hand flexes in my hair as I learn the territory and her taste. She’s so wet for me. So wet and soft and delicious. I want to move into this pussy. To set up camp here. To raise up a Leonard flag and let everyone know this pussy belongs to me.

My thoughts don’t make any sense, but then again, all I can think about is right now, of having the slick heat of her against my face, about dipping my tongue inside of her so I can feel her pulsing around me before I move up to her little budded clit and take it in my mouth. Her hands grip my hair, probably ripping it out. It just makes me smile against her, because she wants this too, she wants what I can give her, and she wants itbad.

I move my fingers into the game, because she made a point of telling me that she didn’t just come from attention to her clit. I trace her wetness before I slide them home, one and then two, keeping at her clit with my tongue and mouth. I need to find her spot—the place that drives her mad—so I can set up camp there too.

“Oh. My. God,” I hear her through the blood thrumming in my ears, and her legs flex against my shoulders. She’s giving more of herself to me, pressing her pussy into my face, her hands gripping me, and my dick is so hard that I can’t think about anything but giving it to her. My mouth and my hand and then my dick. I want her to come more than twice. Three times. Four. Five.

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