The Match - A Baby Daddy Donor Romance - Page 43

“Ah,” he says, eyes examining mine. “So then if that were the case, I’d probably do this …” Without warning, the tall, dark, and handsome Adonis pulls me into his lap, his hands gripping my hips and his gaze commanding mine. Next, his hand slides up my neck, his thumb stopping at the bend beneath my jaw.

I don’t know what he’s serving up here, but it’s officially my turn to return it.

Anticipatory creeps between my legs as his hands travel the outer sides of my thighs before grabbing a handful of my ass. My full, soft ass. The one that hasn’t seen a man—or sunlight—in years.

It’s funny—we can sit here and talk about anything and everything, but the second shit gets real, it becomes a chess match.

“I want to kiss you,” he says, his voice a graveled whisper as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

His words force my heart to skip a beat. Literally. I almost ask him to repeat his declaration so I can enjoy it this time …

Tracing his fingers along my partially-opened mouth, he adds, “I’ve been thinking about this all day. What it would feel like. What it would taste like. What I would do to it …”

I force myself to swallow while my mind runs laps, conjuring up images of this powerful man driving himself inside of me … juxtaposed with images of this entire thing blowing up in our faces.

With his hand along the side of my face and his fingers curling around the nape of my neck, he guides my lips to his and claims them so hard my thoughts stop spinning and my body melts against his. A second later, his tongue dances with mine. With each gentle rhythm of my hips against his lap, his hardness grows and my worries take a backseat.

Fabian smells like the woods, tastes like green apples, and lights my entire body on fire. The sensory overload alone is enough to drive me mad with want.

I’ve officially boarded a runaway train.

Tugging at the hem of his shirt, I pull it over his head before running my hands down every ripple of his chest before tracing his eight-pack. It’s like touching marble. Smooth yet veined, cut to perfection.

Our mouths crash once more, his kisses growing greedier by the second as he works the buttons of my blouse and shoves it off my shoulders like a man with zero patience. With a single fluid move, I find myself in his place on the sofa. His fingers work the fly of my jeans before shoving them down and going back for my panties, all but ripping them off to get them out of the way. Within seconds, the insatiable man is making a meal of me—kissing his way up my inner thighs before stopping at the center to drag his tongue up and down my seam.

My sex pulses, offering miniature orgasmic previews in response to his flicking and circling. And after a few minutes, he inserts a finger, curling it against my g-spot until every nerve ending I have is firing on all cylinders.

Clamping my mouth, I muffle the sounds attempting to escape.

It’s been years since anything wet and organic has been down there.

Honestly, I’d forgotten how amazing it feels …

Biting my lip, I grip a nearby sofa pillow with one hand and reach for a fistful of Fabian’s hair with the other as he buries his tongue deeper, harder inside of me.

Every wave grows more intense, and I try to stave off the inevitable for as long as I can because if it were up to me, this would go on indefinitely—but my body will have no part of it. As if they’ve got a mind of their own, my hips buck in response to the thrashing of his tongue and my breathing hardens. Eyes squeezed tight, I give it one last fight before letting it go and riding the longest wave I’ve ever ridden in my entire life.

Only when it’s over, Fabian remains planted between my thighs, devouring my arousal, his tongue flicking faster than before, soft moans vibrating against my sensitive flesh.

Before I have a chance to protest, to tell him it isn’t necessary to keep going—I’m hit with another electric shock of pleasure.

I’ve never come twice in a row …

Wasn’t even sure I could.

Mouth agape and unable to form a complete sentence, I gawk at the man with the golden tongue—and the extremely large bulge. Falling to my knees, I reach for his sweats and shove them down his muscled thighs along with his boxer briefs. Taking the base of his cock in my hand, I pump the length before bringing my tongue to the tip.

A moment later, I take the first few inches of him into my mouth, opting to take it slow because this is no Mr. Big I’m dealing with—this is Mr. Huge.

Tags: Winter Renshaw Billionaire Romance
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