The Wingman (Alpha Men 1)

“But . . .” he qualified regretfully. “Not now. I don’t think I’ll last very long the first time, Daisy.”

For some reason she found his words so much more flattering than the admiring looks, the touches, the kisses, even the huge, rampant erection straining against his zipper. He didn’t think he’d have much self-control around her, and that was just the sexiest thing any man could ever tell a woman. At least, that’s what Daisy thought, and that knowledge emboldened her. She took another little step closer until her hard nipples were grazing against the expensive cotton of his shirt, one of them catching against a tiny mother-of-pearl button. She moaned at the sensation; her breasts and nipples were so much more sensitive than she’d ever known, and she nearly wept in relief when one of his hands moved up to cup one of her breasts, kneading it gently before plumping it up and holding it to his mouth. This time he wasn’t playing around, he mouthed it, aureole, nipple, and all. The intense suction nearly brought her to her knees, and her legs buckled, but he caught her and carried her to the bed. The movement was so smooth and effortless she didn’t have time to automatically protest that she was too heavy. She was on her back, legs spread wantonly, while he nestled between them, still fully clothed, sans only jacket, socks, and shoes. It was crazy, hot, and sexy, and Daisy loved it! He was at her other breast now, which led to more incredible suctioning, his mouth like a scorching, delicious vacuum, his tongue teasing the aroused tip mercilessly. Daisy raised her knees and planted her feet on the bed, using them as leverage to push her aching center against his hardness. She rubbed against him, wanting him to thrust back, wanting his heat against her wetness. His hands were everywhere and nowhere. Why weren’t they where she needed them to be? Her hands were tugging at the buttons of his shirt, wanting to rip them off in an effort to get his skin against hers. He pushed himself up, big and beautiful as he knelt between her legs, and without any consideration for the fabric or the expense of his dress shirt, he just unbuttoned the top two buttons, grabbed the back of his collar, and tugged it over his head to toss it aside.

Finally she had access to his big, beautiful chest, and she went for one of his nipples like an aggressive cat, embarrassing even herself with her ferocity. She licked, bit, chewed, and worshipped before lavishing the same treatment on the other one. Mason allowed it, groaning appreciatively while she pleasured him. His hands had traveled down to her hips and were angling them upward to better receive his hard grinding.

“Jesus.” He had no breath left, and the word was strained. “I’m not going to come in my pants like a kid again.”

His hands moved down and found her hot and dripping.

“You’re so wet,” he moaned before his index and middle fingers located her melting channel and sought entry. His hips mimicked the slow thrust of his fingers, and he groaned appreciatively.

“Shit, you’re so tight, angel.” The pumping motion of his fingers inside her stole Daisy’s breath, and her back arched as she rode the sensation. It was unfamiliar and a little uncomfortable, but combined with his stroking thumb at her hard clit, it was unbearably pleasurable. She was still fighting to breathe, her mouth open, her eyes pleading with his as she felt herself climbing to the inevitable peak of her climax. Her chest heaved as she sucked in a tiny amount of air without releasing what she already had trapped in her lungs.

He bent over her, his fingers still working deliciously between her thighs, and put his mouth onto hers.

“Breathe,” he urged, whispering into her mouth, supplying her with some of his own oxygen, which served as a catalyst for her to finally exhale on a sob. “That’s a good girl. Now come for me.”

“I can’t,” she cried, her body strung as tightly as a bow, teetering on the very edge, needing something more, something to send her toppling over the precipice.

“You can.” He changed the angle of his fingers, and she screamed when his talented digits brushed against an area so sensitive it nearly sent her off the bed. He held her ruthlessly in place. “There it is.”

“Oh my God,” she keened as, with another stroke, combined with a flick of his thumb, she came. Hard. It was much more intense than any climax she had ever given herself, than even the one he had gifted her with earlier that day. It was so powerful she felt sure she blacked out for an instant. He was murmuring soothing nothings into her ear and easing his fingers out of her tightly clenched womanhood. She was painfully sensitive, but he was unbelievably gentle. She was slick with her own moisture and felt the dampness spreading beneath her into the duvet. It embarrassed her a little despite his huge, smug grin.