Forbidden Fling (Wildwood 1)

He covered her pussy with his mouth and worked her from the inside out and the outside in. Licking and sucking softly, rubbing and flicking gently. Exciting her slowly, lifting her to a peak where she could see forever before he let her fly. And he lost himself in the erotic thrill of pleasuring her into a frenzy of writhing hips and tense, needy sounds.

Ethan ate it up, every last rock of her hips, every last sip of her juice, until she was shivering on the edge of orgasm, and her big eyes looked down at him, heavy with need and lust. She uttered, “Please . . . Ethan. Need . . . it. Need . . .”

And all it took to get her there was taking her clit between his lips and her G-spot beneath his fingers and giving her that final push.

“Ah . . . ,” she cried out and bowed with the orgasm’s intense rush. One hand dropped back to the sill, giving her leverage to lift into him, and she rode out the rest of the climax against his mouth, where he continued to lick and suck and Delaney bucked and shivered through orgasm after orgasm after orgasm until he’d lost count.

NINE

Once the orgasms subsided, Delaney melted like butter, sliding right off the ledge and into Ethan’s lap, where she locked her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his skin.

Something sweet and soft and completely foreign expanded inside her. Something beyond the simple satisfaction of sexual release. Something that created a sting in her chest and a burn in her eyes.

And even as she caught her breath in his arms, she knew she was in trouble. Deep trouble. Because she didn’t just like him; she cared about him. Cared about him in a way she never allowed herself to care about men.

She squeezed her eyes closed and jumped into denial to create a fence in front of the cliff directly in her heart’s path. She couldn’t fall for him. Absolutely couldn’t. This was sex. Off-the-charts, mind-blowing, religion-altering sex. But just sex.

Her mind pivoted back in the right direction, and she kissed his throat. “I have no words.”

He wrapped his arms around her and straightened, carrying her with him toward the stairs.

When he took the first step without putting her down, she smiled and lifted her head. “I can walk.”

“Nah, I missed my workout today.” He tilted his head and closed his mouth at the base of her neck. His teeth grazed her skin and shot tingles across her shoulders. She laughed and pulled back. He was smiling, his lids were heavy, and he looked . . . happy.

Really happy.

That odd pull tightened her chest again. She pushed off his shoulders and wiggled out of his arms. “Save your energy for the bedroom.”

She started up the stairs, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back against him. The bu

lge of his cock fit the curve of her ass. He swept her hair off her neck, kissing her there again. Delaney couldn’t keep herself from rocking against that substantial erection. Couldn’t keep her hands from reaching back to stroke him and do a little more work on his pants. He groaned, spread his hands over her belly, and let them roam up her body.

“We’ll never make it to the bedroom,” he said against her neck, his voice low and lust-roughened, “if you don’t stop that.”

She dropped her head back against his chest. “Bedrooms are overrated.”

He made a sound in his throat and covered her mouth with his. God, she loved the way he kissed, his lips so lush, his tongue downright artistic. And when he nudged her up the stairs, she sighed and obeyed. His mouth roamed her neck and shoulder, his hands traveled underneath her skirt and stroked her ass, squeezed her cheeks, dipped in between . . .

Her feet stumbled on the last step, and Delaney gripped the door frame to the bedroom as pleasure rolled through her pelvis. She couldn’t decide which she liked better between her legs—his mouth, his hands, or his cock. They were equally amazing in different ways.

Ethan Hayes was quickly climbing her list as one of the best lovers of her lifetime.

“Can’t wait to slide inside you,” he rasped against her skin.

The thought of him filling her, stretching her, made her moan. She dropped her head against the door frame and rocked her hips back and into his hand. “Then don’t wait.”

“Baby, if I had a condom on me, I’d already be inside you, making your nails carve patterns in my railing.”

Oh, Christ. Her body responded to the vision his words created with a flood of heat through her pelvis, pooling between her legs where her sex opened like a flower, aching to take him in.

On the landing, she turned and met his eyes with a suggestive smile. “We can always get one and go back. Stairs aren’t going anywhere.”

He held her gaze as he lifted a hand to her jaw, slid it into her hair at the back of her neck, taking a possessive hold. “Neither is my bed. And if you like the stair idea, you’ll love what I have in mind.”

The devilish heat in his eyes, the edge of naughty in his smile made everything inside her sizzle. This was exactly the kind of lustiness she needed to push the longing, the sweetness, the affection into the shadows.

He pressed his other hand over her head on the jamb and lowered his gaze to her mouth. Using the hand at her neck, he pulled her to him, and, without moving an inch, he brought her within reach to nip and lick at her lips. And the slow, wet slide of his tongue along her lip as his eyes held hers felt wildly intimate and heavily laden with the symbolism of ownership.