The Secret (Winslow Brothers 3)

But the wanton, horny version of myself evidently has the kind of mind that goes to the dirtiest place possible. Put me on the set of a porno; I’m ready to perform.

Just…you know…privately.

“Mm,” he hums, destroying any and all ability to question myself. This is definitely good. Very, very good, and it should absolutely be happening. I can’t even think of anything else that could be happening, other than Ty’s mouth spending a languid amount of time doing just this. “You taste so good,” he adds, licking another path through me and then stopping at the top to flick his tongue with the perfect amount of pressure.

My head falls back and hits the door with a much bigger thud this time, and Ty pulls me closer to his mouth. His face is right there, on me, doing the exact things I’ve been fantasizing about for the past month.

This is…hot and should be forbidden, but fuck, it’s…indescribable how good it feels. Like his tongue has trained for months for a fellatio marathon.

I teeter a little on my heels, and Ty digs his hand into the outer meat of my thigh, steadying me, his tongue never stopping its work. Around the clit, down the sides, and then ending with his tongue inside me.

“Ty,” I breathe, unable to come up with any other words. I know there are a lot of them—I’m a graduate-level student in literature, for shit’s sake—but in this moment, I don’t know any of them but his name.

He smooths his hand softly away from my thigh and crooks it in the crease of my panty line twice. My whole body shudders.

“I can’t wait to fill you up,” he says huskily, his fingers working from the side to the center and just softly teasing entry. “Do you want that, Rachel? Do you want to feel me inside you?”

Fucking desperately, the voice in my head remarks, but all I can manage is a stunted, “Y-yes.”

He pushes the tip of one finger inside and swirls it in a soft circle.

“Now, Ty. Please,” I beg just as he pushes another finger inside along with the first.

It’s an intrusion—considering I haven’t had sex with anyone in a hot minute—but it’s not at all overzealous. I’m soft and limber and completely ready for action.

“Oh yeah, you’re ready,” he agrees, pumping both fingers in once, twice, and then a third, languid stroke with a hook at the top. My back arches off the door, and my mouth opens in a gasp. He stands abruptly, knocking my thigh off his shoulder, and closes his lips over mine, swallowing the surprised puff of air and then sliding the warm tip of his tongue across my bottom lip. I lick it immediately after, tasting myself there.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he whispers against my lips, and a shiver runs down my spine and out the tips of my toes.

The words are so simple, but the power I feel from them is invigorating. I’ve been a curvy girl my entire life. Confidence is something found in the space between society’s opposition to it for women like me. At this age, I’ve curated my don’t-give-a-fuck-about-other-people attitude pretty well, but that doesn’t mean hearing it from the lips of a man as good-looking and sensual as Ty isn’t flattering as hell.

“So are you,” I reply, running my hands across his solid chest and down the center line of his rigid abdomen. He really does have the body of a Greek god. It’s crazy.

“No, Rachel. I mean you’re sexy in the way that I can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t fucking function another day without sliding my cock as deep inside you as it’ll go and staying there until I get to see you come.”

Okay, I’m so for that. Like, totally in favor.

“Yes,” I say aloud and then add another “Yes” for good measure. I add a nod too, nearly knocking our foreheads together, thanks to an unlikely mix of extremely close proximity and overzealous enthusiasm.

He smiles all the way to his eyes, and I count the wrinkle-laugh lines on each side. Three on the corner of his left eye, but only two on the right. Clearly, even though it seems perfect in every way, his smile is uneven.

I don’t know why but realizing that puts me somewhat at ease.

He slides his hands up the backs of my thighs until they get to my ass, and then he lifts with incredible effortlessness and pushes my back up against the door once again. My pussy is directly against his cock; I can feel its hard outline through the material of his stylish work pants.

A moan escapes my throat of its own accord, and Ty puts a period on its sentence by grinding himself more solidly against me.

“I can feel the heat of you through my fucking pants,” he growls, closing his lips over mine again and sucking at my tongue in a way that makes my belly flip over on itself.