My hands clawed at his shirt, hungry for the feel of his skin on mine. He broke away just long enough to reach behind his neck, pulling his shirt forward and off, then tossing it to the side of the bed. My hungry hands dug into the firm muscles on his shoulders as my hips ground upward into him, dragging a ragged moan out of me as his cock pressed up against where I needed him most.

"Nixon, please," I begged, grabbing at the waistband of his pants, shameless in my need for more. For everything.

Frustrated when he didn't move to lift up, to rip off his pants, then mine, to bury deep inside, I planted my hands on his shoulders, pushed.

Caught off guard, he rolled onto his back, grabbing me just quickly enough to take me with him, leaving me straddling him, in control.

My lips ripped from his, and I lifted my body up, looking down at him, feeling a delicious tightening in my sex as my gaze moved over his perfect skin, stretched over tight muscle.

His fingertips slipped up the sides of my thighs, settling low on my hips, his thumbs slipping dangerously close to where I needed his touch most.

My hands moved upward, grabbing the bodice of my romper, sliding it down and off my body, leaving me bare, save for my little swatch of pink panties. His breath hissed out of him, his eyes going small as his gaze roamed over my breasts for a long moment before his hands raised, slipping up my sides, closing over my breasts, thumbs rolling over the hardened buds of my nipples.

The shock of pleasure moved outward from the touch, moving down my stomach, pooling between my thighs.

When his thumbs and forefingers grabbed and rolled, I damn near came right then and there, a loud moan escaping me as my head tipped back, as my eyes pressed closed.

Without looking, I missed his intention until I felt my panties being dragged roughly down, forcing me to tilt to one side, freeing one leg, then the other.

I barely got a chance to settle once again when Nixon's hands were snagging me behind my knees, yanking up and up and up.

My breath caught when I realized his intention, as his hands grabbed my hips, pulled downward, as his tongue traced up my cleft.

His tongue found and worked my clit. Perfect pressure, perfect speed, driving me up hard and fast, making my legs shake, my breath catch in my throat, my upper half fold forward a bit so my hands could plant on the headboard--I held on as his tongue did another swipe, sending me crashing through an orgasm that stole my breath, made the world go white, dragged a choked, unfamiliar sound from somewhere deep inside as the waves crashed through my system.

My body collapsed down on the mattress, my chest tight as I tried to draw in some breath.

Nixon had no mercy for the airless, the limbless.

He turned, snagging me at the ankles, yanking me back to the middle of the bed, sealing his lips over mine before pressing up, settling back on his heels, his hands moving downward toward his button and zip as his eyes stayed on me.

My gaze, however, roamed.

Down the strong muscles of his chest, the indents of his abdominal muscles, the deep V of his Adonis belt.

I sucked a slow, deep breath in as my gaze moved lower. A garbled, mewling noise escaped me as his pants lowered, as his hand moved to close around his straining cock.

My body folded upward, my hands moving his out of the way, closing around him, stroking him to the hilt as my head dipped, as my lips parted, as he slipped inside my mouth.

"Fuck," he hissed, his hand moving to the back of my neck.

He wouldn't let me work him long, though, his hand sifting into my hair, turning, curling, yanking until I moved back, looked up at him.

His other hand lifted, thumb brushing over my swollen lower lip as he took a breath so deep his chest shook.

There was a tight sensation in my chest at the look in his eyes. Something deep and warm. Something close to--dare I even think it--affection.

Affection from a man like Nixon.

That sure sounded a lot like a gift to me.

One I felt really honored to receive.

"Baby," he murmured, head shaking like he couldn't quite figure out what he wanted to say.

Uncertainty and its cousin tension started to thicken the air.

"Are you still thinking about goat Satan?" I asked, making a chuckle burst out of him before he shucked off his pants, fetching a condom out of the wallet before tossing them aside, then dropped down beside me, pulling me onto my side as well, yanking my knee up over his hip, hand gliding down to squeeze my ass.

Tags: Jessica Gadziala Rivers Brothers Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net