CEO Daddy (Crescent Cove 6.50)

Asher’s mouth slid down to my neck and back to my breasts. He stared up at me in the firelight, his dark eyes dancing with flames and intent while he sucked my nipple with just a little too much force. Enough that I arched up off the soft rug.

Again, the pleasure arced through me and pooled under the lace of my panties. I was probably going to leave wet marks on his beautiful suit. Before I could mention that fact, he curled his arm under me so my shoulders bowed back, giving him more access.

As if there was a single place left on me from my neck to my breasts he hadn’t touched.

I ached for more. So much more.

“God, I want to taste you.”

“Aren’t you?”

“More.” He slipped down to the underside of my breast and to the soft line of my rib cage. “Everything.”

“I…” I didn’t have an answer for that. I craved every bit of experience, but I wasn’t sure how much honesty he could handle.

He scraped his teeth around my belly button, just above the dip of my panties. “May I?”

“Anything.”

“Oh, don’t give me that opening. I’ll take it all. I’m a greedy bastard.”

I swallowed down the rush of fear under the excitement. If this was the one and only time I’d have this chance, I wanted it all. Even the extra frosting of that amazing tongue where nothing but my fingers had been. “Show me.”

He inched lower and tucked the tips of his fingers under the stretchy lace and dragged them down my legs. Rather than looking down at the most hidden part of me, he stared into my eyes as he lowered his mouth to me. Our gaze was locked for what felt like forever.

“Breathe, Hannah.”

I let out a soft laugh and it faded into a groan as his tongue slipped through my wetness. “Oh, God.”

The rumble from his chest buzzed along my thighs before it reverberated through my skin to where his very clever tongue was tucked. I resisted the urge to push him away. It was intimate and overwhelming, but then there was nothing but a wash of intense pleasure as he flicked his tongue around my clit with a skill I didn’t want to think about.

Instead, I concentrated on the way it made me feel.

As if I was floating and drowning at the same time. The sounds of my wetness made me want to push his head away, but it seemed to intensify his need for more. The greed he mentioned seemed to diffuse into me and made me stretch up with little tendrils of need.

Instead of pushing him aw

ay, my fingers slipped into the longer hairs at the top of his head and held him closer. He groaned against me and slipped a finger underneath where his tongue had been. Sliding it into me while I gasped.

I arched off the rug and reached up with my other hand for the pillow above my head. Anything to hold on and not fly apart as one finger became two and he stretched me.

“You’re so fucking tight. As if you were made only for my mouth, my tongue, my fucking fingers.”

I panted out a sob. “Yes. No one else’s.” That was the truth. No lies there. “Never anyone else’s.”

He slowed and looked up at me. “Never?” He stopped driving his fingers deeper into me. “Hannah?”

I swallowed. I didn’t want to lie, but if he stopped—dear God, I’d kill him and cry for a month, maybe even a year.

He turned his hand until his thumb was tucked under my clit. My brain shut off and I lifted my hips for more. Madness clawed at my brain like a fever.

“No one?” His voice was reverent, not accusatory.

I turned my head away. “No.”

His fingers slipped out of me.

“Asher, please.”