Tempting (Inked Hearts 1)
Page 183
His soft, wet tongue is heaven.
His fingers curl into my thighs as he licks me.
The tension in my sex builds to a crescendo. Almost. So fucking close.
There.
With the next flick of his tongue, I unravel.
I groan. I writhe. I tug his hair hard enough to rip it out.
He holds me in place, still flicking his tongue against me. It's too much pressure. I can't take it.
"Brendon." I try to press my legs against him, but his grip is too firm.
I'm staying on this couch, his mouth on me, as long as he wants me here.
Fuck, the pressure is intense. I can barely take it. But I can. As painful as it is, I don't want him to stop.
He flicks his tongue against me. His motions get harder. Faster. It's still intense. It still hurts. But now the pleasure outweighs everything else.
I get lost in the bliss growing inside me. A few more flicks of his tongue and I'm there.
I scream his name as I go over the edge.
I shake. I writhe. I tug at his hair.
I feel my orgasm all the way in the tips of my toes.
This time, Brendon releases me. He pushes himself up, takes my hands, and pulls me into his arms.
His touch gets soft. Gentle.
Like he thinks I'm his.
But I'm not.
Not until he knows every part of me.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kaylee
Saturday night is busy. And I'm closing. I get caught up in the noise and the demands. I don't stop to rest or to think until I'm tallying my receipts. Even then, it takes all my mental energy to tap the numbers into my phone.
The chatter of work drifts away on my ride home. I park my bike in the garage. Slip into the house. Climb the stairs as quietly as possible.
All the lights are out except for the one in Brendon's bedroom.
Emma's asleep.
I'm about to slip into my room and find a way to stay busy—to keep that confession from rising up my throat, to keep my thoughts of Grandma stuffed into the box where they belong—when Brendon pulls his door open.
He's standing there, one hand in the front pocket of his jeans, the other on the doorframe, his t-shirt hugging his shoulders just so.
There's practically a beautiful distraction arrow pointing at his head. Like something in a cartoon.
Already, the words are clawing at my throat.