Wet and Reckless (Private Pleasures 4)

That earned him a loud “Ohmigod!” followed by a low, shivery, “Nooo-kaaay…” All of which he took as permission to continue lavishing on the apologies.

She twitched and squirmed under his roving tongue, her breath slowing to long, labored inhales when he flicked his way higher, turning shallow and quick when he roamed lower, and hitching on a cry every time he speared his tongue deep without warning. When she called out his name in that hoarse, breathless voice he liked so much, he eased away and kissed her thigh. With an uneven sigh he liked almost as much as the sound of his name on her lips, her body went limp.

“Forgive me for neglecting all this earlier?”

“God, yes. I swear. There’s nothing to forgive.”

He skimmed his finger lower and rimmed her. “Tell me, Reckless, is this too unusual for you?”

“I don’t…” She gave a weak laugh. “I don’t know. It’s definitely unusual.”

“How about this?” He leaned in and bestowed a soft kiss to the plushest part of her pussy, then another, and another, going longer and deeper each time, occasionally pausing to nip the pillows of flesh protecting the spot most deserving of an apology.

“Umm.” She arched and writhed onto her side, languorous as a cat in a sunbeam. Instead of a purr, Roxy’s contentment came through loud and clear in a series of uncensored moans layered over the sound of his mouth slowly turning every inch of her he could reach hotter and wetter. He experimented, taking his time to play her like an instrument until he knew all her high notes, every throaty low. He’d earn a song of forgiveness from her. Another private performance, in person this time.

Soon, he silently prayed, because his body wanted more of hers. He wanted to comb his fingers through her hair, clasp the back of her neck, and use his mouth on hers, just as deeply and thoroughly as he was using it now. His cock ached to be inside her again, but that would have to wait until he figured out what else made her sing and how to perfect every note between the highs and lows.

He eased away by degrees, offering progressively lighter, briefer kisses, smiling when the sounds coming from her throat took on a frustrated edge.

“There’s one last apology I need to deliver.”

Her head lolled back and forth. “You’re forgiven.”

“Not yet. Spread your legs, Roxy.” He did the honors, opening her fully to him. “Let me show your deprived clit how sorry I am for leaving it in such condition.”

Then he lowered his head and dragged the apology out with the flat of his tongue.

She reared up. “Oh God.” The weak words contrasted starkly with the force of her fingers twisting his hair. When he licked her again, she flopped back down like a marionette cut from its strings, and when he closed his lips around her and applied gentle suction, she practically vibrated.

Mouth busy, he reached under her shirt—his shirt—smoothed his palm over her fluttering stomach and toyed with her navel ring for a second before moving again, closing in on her breast. Oh, yeah. She wanted that. She eagerly presented the one closest to his hand and murmured what sounded like, “Don’t stop,” as he lifted and molded the full, soft swell.

He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Couldn’t get enough. Her building pleasure coated his tongue, glazed his lips and chin, permeated his pores, but only left him thirsty for more. And her? She was so wet and restless precision became impossible. His mouth slid everywhere. Finally, he hooked his arms around her thighs and subdued her bucking hips. “Forgiveness has a flavor, Roxy. It tastes like your orgasm sliding like honey down my throat and setting fire to my blood. Are you ready to forgive me?”

Without waiting for an answer, he dragged her up, whipped her clit over and over with his tongue, a little savage—possibly merciless—but she begged so beautifully under the onslaught he couldn’t bring him

self to slow down.

Fingernails raked his scalp. The heel of one foot dug into his back, and the toes of the other curled against his collarbone. “Please, please, please—” Her hips lifted off the bed, her voice broke, and she came in a trembling, sobbing rush.

He stayed with her as she calmed, slowing and gentling his efforts until she lay limp on the sheets, arms flung on either side of her head, legs dangling down his back. With one last kiss to her slightly less neglected pussy—a kiss that earned a whole-body shiver from Roxy—he eased away. Faint red patches decorated the insides of her thighs, souvenirs from his stubble. Why it gave him such primitive satisfaction to see those marks on her, he couldn’t pinpoint, but he definitely wanted the opportunity to put more on her. Everywhere.

In the five seconds it took him to retrieve a condom from the nightstand, she got to her knees and crawled over to lift it from his fingers. Recovery time between the sexes simply wasn’t fair. She tossed the foil square over her shoulder without taking her eyes from him. “Don’t I get a chance to apologize all proper, too?” The tip of her tongue traced her upper lip, as if the question itself carried some irresistible aftertaste. She trailed a finger down his abs, added another while taking a slow, meandering path to his insatiable cock.

They both watched her circle the crown with the pad of her thumb, around and around, and then press against the sensitive opening in a near-crippling exploration. All the air in his lungs escaped in a hiss.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Officer Donovan?”

He suspected she was looking at him now, just by the quality of her voice, but he couldn’t tear his attention away from the sight of her handling his cock. Those nimble musician’s fingers roamed over the head, traced the flare, and skimmed his shaft. “You’d like me on my knees, working for a little forgiveness. Maybe right in front of the mirror where you’d have a nice view?”

Her hand never stilled. She wrapped her fist around his shaft and gave a light tug. Bright little points of light flashed behind his eyes. “Reckless…” Leaning down, he slid his hand under her hair until he cupped the back of her head. Light pressure was all it would take to tip her face up for a kiss, but she dipped her chin, leaned in, and placed the kiss he’d considered claiming on the center of his chest instead.

Still skittish about that. He wanted to call her on it. Determine if the no mouth-kissing business applied strictly to him—which didn’t sit well—or applied across the board, which didn’t sit much better. “Roxy.”

She continued kissing a path down his chest while she stroked his shaft.

Jesus. “Rox…”

Her tongue painted his stomach. Despite the draining orgasm he’d already enjoyed, his balls suddenly felt impossibly heavy and uncomfortably full when she dragged her fist up his dick hard enough to lift them away from his body. “Fuck me.” Without consciously deciding to, he moved his hand from the nape of her neck to the top of her head, so instead of simply holding her he was guiding her. Lower.