Playing (Inked Hearts 2)

But strange.

Every flick of his tongue pushes away my concerns. My nerves fade. I forget that I barely know him. I forget the last few months. And the three years before that. I forget everything but his soft, wet mouth against me.

Mmm.

I tug at his hair.

Buck my hips against his mouth.

He holds me in place. Groans against me. Licks me hard. Soft. Fast. Slow. Up. Down. Left. There.

"Fuck." My thighs fight his hands.

He scrapes his nails against my skin. He has me pinned. He's in control. I shouldn't like it—I never like that kind of thing—but I do.

"Walker." I buck against his mouth.

He stays on just the spot. Licks me with long, soft strokes. Then harder. Harder.

There.

"Don't stop," I breathe.

He doesn't.

He keeps that same rhythm. That same speed.

Tension pools in my sex.

It's intense. Different. Good different.

He takes me higher. Winds me tighter. I tug at his hair, holding his mouth against me.

Almost.

There.

The next flick of his tongue pushes me over the edge.

I groan his name as I come.

My sex pulses. Everything goes white, this beautiful, bright, blinding shade of pleasure. It's the only thing in my world. The only thing in the universe.

/> He's still going.

Licking me with those hard, steady strokes.

It's intense. Too intense.

I tug at his hair. "Fuck me. Now."

He pulls away. Nips at my thigh. Pushes himself to his feet.

I watch as he tosses his t-shirt over his head.

Pulls a condom from his back pocket.

Unzips his jeans and slides them—and his boxers—to his feet.