Forbidden Fling (Wildwood 1)

Delaney laughed, and while he was still dazed, trying to figure out what happened, she rolled him to his back and straddled him. “Thank God for small towns where no one locks their doors.”

She kicked the door closed and yanked at his belt, barely able to see through her hair falling everywhere.

“Delaney, slow down. We’ve got all night.”

Oh, no. She wasn’t going to wait all night for what she could get right now. “All night is for second courses, dessert, and leftovers.”

She dodged his hands, pushed his pants out of the way, slipped her hand into his boxer briefs, and . . .

“Oh . . .” She stroked the long, thick, burning length of him, and saliva pooled in her mouth. “Even better than I’d hoped. This will make one mean main course.”

“Baby . . . God, your hands . . .” Ethan’s fingers circled her wrists, and she had to admit she was impressed that he actually tried to pull her hands away. “You’ve gotta slow down.”

“’Kay.” She shimmied back on his thighs. “I’ll slow down.” Releasing his cock, she shifted his boxers aside, and as soon as his muscles relaxed and his fingers loosened on her wrists, she lifted his cock away from his belly and slid him deep into her mouth.

Ethan bucked and swore beneath her. One hand tangled in her hair; the other clawed at the throw rug beneath him so hard it folded into his hand. A powerful thrill surged through her. This was a high all its own. Almost as good as her own orgasm.

“Delaney . . . ,” he scolded through clenched teeth.

She pulled him from her mouth. “I’m slowing down.”

Then she did nothing but circle the ridge of his head with her tongue over and over and over. “You taste so good.”

Ethan propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch, which only added fuel to her fire.

“I could do this all night.” She puckered, pressed the tip of his head against her lips, and pushed him all the way into her mouth, centimeter by excruciatingly slow centimeter, while he watched, eyes heavy, expression flooded with edgy lust. His whole body trembled.

And once the head of his cock pressed against her throat, she hummed with pleasure, then opened, carefully drew his head into her throat, and swallowed.

“Motherfucker—” His eyes closed, head dropped back.

God, that was so hot. So. Damn. Hot.

Men weren’t the only visual animals. And right about now, she was wishing she’d gotten him naked before she’d started this, because she craved the sight of those hard muscles quivering because of her touch.

“Delaney, stop.” He panted the words, cupping her jaw with one hand. “Stop, baby. I can’t . . . goddammit. I’m gonna come.”

She pulled her mouth off his cock. “How long does it take you to get hard again?”

He held her face gently, his thumb absently stroking her cheek while he stared at her as if she’d asked him if men really came from Mars. “What?”

“If you come, how long will it take for you to get hard again?” She rubbed his wet length with her hand, her own sex just as damp, just as swollen, just as ready. “’Cause I really, really want to suck you off.”

“Jesus Christ. I don’t know.”

She straightened her arms and lifted a brow at him. “You don’t know? What guy doesn’t know how long it takes him to get hard enough for a second round?”

He huffed a laugh and dropped back against the floor. “A guy who doesn’t have many second rounds, I guess.”

Delaney let one hand slide beneath his shirt, over his belly, his chest, and found a wall of muscle. “Good God. You’re ripped.” She pushed up and looked down at him again. “Handsome, you are hanging out with the wrong women. With your looks, this body, and that mouth, you could have women doing anything you damn well please as often as you damn well please.”

A growl started low in his throat. He grabbed her wrists, sat up, and flipped her to her back. Delaney squeaked in surprise. Then she hit the floor, and her breath whooshed out.

Ethan hovered over her, his eyes hot and intent. “And if the guys you’re with take their pleasure first and make you wait for yours, you’ve been hanging out with the wrong men. Because with this face”—he stroked her cheek gently—“this body”—his hand moved down, covered her breast, and squeezed, making Delaney’s breath catch—“and this mouth”—he lowered his head and traced his tongue over her bottom lip—“you could have men crawling over broken glass to please you.”

Delaney didn’t even have time to think of a response before his mouth covered hers, hot and demanding. He pinned her wrists to the floor above her head and licked into her mouth, tasting and teasing and taking. Then his lips were on her neck, her throat. He transferred both of her hands to one of his and used the other to pull at the hem of her blouse, freeing it from her skirt. He pushed it up her body, sliding his hands over the skin of her belly and the silk of her bra, his fingers lingering along the lace edge with a low, “So pretty. I should have let you undress for me. Should have let you give me a show.” His heavy-lidded eyes came back to hers, and his fingers dipped beneath the edge to tease her nipple. She lifted into his touch. “Would you do that? Strip for me?”

His gaze was so open, so honest, as if he really wanted to know. She hadn’t done that in a long time. The thought spiraled a few nerves low in her belly, but his eyes were still holding hers, waiting for an answer, so she said, “Given the right incentive.”