“How many leggings have you packed for this trip?”
“Four.”
“So you won’t be needing these anymore.” He grabbed the fabric of my leggings between my legs roughly and tore them from my body.
I yelped and tried pushing him away, before my bare legs were exposed in front of him. I slid down the bed, trying to fight him, and he took both my arms and pinned them above my head, sliding over me so his groin was on mine and his unmistakably hard shaft was digging deep between my thighs. His eyes blazed with so many emotions, I felt nauseated on his behalf. It made my stupid heart forgive him for acting so cruel and aloof all the time.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
I nearly choked on a laugh. “Of course not.”
“Fair enough, I’ll rephrase. Do you think I’m a rapist?”
“Doubt it. It’s too available for you to take by force.”
“Serial killer?”
“You don’t give enough of a shit about anyone to kill them.”
He paused, his mouth curving into a smirk. “Close your eyes.”
“Let go of my wrists first.”
“No chance. It’s a part of the process.”
“And what process would that be?”
“The one where I make you come so hard you’ll need a spine transplant because I’ll turn you into goo.”
I grinned despite my best intentions. I didn’t think I’d ever smiled so much in my entire life as while on tour with Alex Winslow. Which was insane, considering he also made me so mad and frustrated in the same breath. Alex kissed a path down my collarbone—dirty, wet kisses full of hunger and promise—dragging his teeth down the valley between my still-clothed breasts. He rubbed his thumb along the black silk of my dress, his other hand still pinning my arms above my head.
“How long does it usually take you to make a dress?”
He wouldn’t dare.
“No.” My breath was shaky, my voice thick. I was delirious with need. “Don’t you dare, Alex Winslow.”
Phhhsshhhhttt!
He tore my precious silk dress, disposing it on the floor like I hadn’t ridden my bike eight miles each way every day to save money to buy the fabric, like I hadn’t sewn it deep into the night. “You assho—”
But I never got to finish the word, because my panties found the same fate as my dress, and before I knew it, his head was between my legs and oh. My. God.
Confession time: no one had ever gone down on me before. I’d only had one sexual partner in high school, and, like a lot of high school kids—he was pretty selfish in bed. I’d never given, nor received, oral sex, so I didn’t know what the fuss was all about. That’s why my eyes almost rolled out of their sockets straight to the floor along with my tattered clothes the minute his hot, wet tongue pressed into my center and gave my slit a thorough, long lick.
My pussy contracted so hard, I nearly came on the spot. I closed my eyes, too embarrassed to look at what he was doing to me, and dragged the pillow from beside me, pressing it over my head to stifle the moans that followed every time he put his tongue at the base of my pussy and dragged it all the way up to my clit, flicking it gently with an arrogant asshole smile I could feel.
I thrust my hips up, wanting more, and he pinned me down in response, growling.
“Open wider.”
I did.
“One leg over my shoulder.”
I clumsily raised my right leg and propped it against his broad shoulder, painfully aware of the fact he was still fully dressed and I was so physically and mentally naked.
“Look at me.”
I froze, exhaling all my anxiety into the fabric of the pillow. Shit. Did I have to?
“Look. At. Me.” Apparently, I did have to. “Or I’ll stop, but before I do, I’ll make sure you get to the edge before I yank you right back. Don’t make me be cruel, Stardust.”
Slowly, I slid the pillow down and peeked at him through the valley of my breasts. His eyes looked drunk and mean, a combination I never thought I’d find appealing. He stared at me as his tongue penetrated me hard, and I choked on a shaky breath.
“Alex…”
He reached over and kneaded my right breast, his fingers rubbing my pebbled nipple and making me yelp. My legs started to tremble around his head, and that’s when his tongue began mercilessly fucking me like it was much more than a tongue. I clutched his gorgeous hair between my fingers, his tongue buried so deep inside me I could feel it filling me in ways I’d never been filled before. He looked so rough and male, his tattoos crawling from the edge of his Henley, his locks mussed and wild, and his stubble making the insides of my thighs burn deliciously. I whimpered, clamping around his tongue, my butt cheeks so tense I couldn’t breathe.