Shane (Damage Control 4)

I stare at her.

“To go to the wedding.” She rolls her eyes a little. “Forgot already? Men.”

It’s funny, and my lips tug upward in a faint smile. “Around five?”

“Sure thing. And wear something nice.”

Nice. No idea if I have something that fits the description. I mean, I could wear what I wore to Asher’s wedding—dark jeans and T-shirt.

Dammit, I want to look good. For her. I want to see her eyes widen in appreciation, dilate with desire.

Fuck…

Still can’t believe she wants me along. Hell, that she’s here, half-naked at my table, her eyes twinkling and her skin glowing in the gray morning light, her curves, her mouth, the memory of her underneath me, riding my dick in my lap—all making me hard.

“Just come right up,” I say, turning away, giving my dick a consoling squeeze, “when you’re here. Let me know if I’m up to par.”

“I could. If I had the key.”

From a hook on the wall, I take down the extra key to my apartment and toss it to her. She barely catches it, the shirt falling from her shoulders.

A grin spreads on my face as one of her bra straps falls off her shoulder, baring her breast. Damn, I’m so hard my dick’s drilling a hole through my sweats.

In two strides, I’m right in front of her, bending over her, crushing my mouth to hers. I steady myself with one hand on the back of her chair, while the other trails over her nipple, teasing it.

She gasps against my lips, and I thrust my tongue between them, tasting her. Oh yeah, this is so good. So real. She is fire and earth and water, pulling me in, keeping me sane.

I haul her up from the chair, plop her on my rickety table and drag down her panties.

“Shane…” Her voice is smoky with arousal, and when I undo her bra and pull it off her, both her nipples are hard, winking at me.

“Breakfast,” I whisper and push her on her back, then bend over her to suck on her tits.

Oh yeah. Her nipples taste salty and sweet, and her scent fills me like a drug. She tastes and smells like frosting, and I can’t stop licking and sucking. I want to eat her up.

She moans by name, and her hands tangle in my hair.

I freeze.

She runs them down to my face, and I think—this is real. She is real, Shane. Don’t get sidetracked.

Leaving light bites on her tits, trailing my mouth down her flat stomach, I fight the numbness, the dark trying to edge into my vision.

Real. Real.

Then I part her legs, bury my face between them, and everything else fades. I’m lost in her taste. Never though a girl would melt against my tongue like candy, that I’d be so fucking horny from licking at her pussy, feeling her contract and clench around my fingers as I push them into her heat.

So close to losing it, just from this, not even touching my own dick. Shit, this never happened to me before.

New. All new to me.

All fucking real.

I give her one last long lick that has her squealing and pull away to shuck off my sweats. She’s panting, muttering something, her hands clenching against the table, her legs pressing together.

It makes me grin again, seeing how close she is to losing her shit—because of me.

Yeah. Heavily, I step out of my sweats on the floor, kick them away, grab her knees and spread her open again. The sight of her rosy pussy brings a growl out of my chest.