Sawyer (Carolina Reapers 2)

The claim was an unleashing as Sawyer grabbed my ass with both hands and hefted me up, walking the distance to my bed. We crashed atop it in a tangle of legs, our kiss never breaking as he teased my mouth with easy flicks and sweeping dips.

I tugged at the hem of his shirt until he pulled back enough for me to tug it over his head. I tossed it to the floor, greedily drinking in the sight of his broad shoulders, his strong chest. He followed suit, pulling mine off with expert fingers, leaving my breasts covered in nothing but purple lace.

“Goddamn, Echo,” he said, palming one of my breasts while his mouth covered the other. His tongue teased my nipple over the lace, and I arched underneath him, desperate to feel him.

I whimpered slightly as he pulled back, moving lower to unbutton my jeans, then his. In a few heartbeats we were down to nothing but our undergarments, and my protested growl made him laugh.

“So eager,” he said, lightly grazing his fingers over the lace covering my aching center.

“So cocky,” I said, gripping his hard length with a little bite between us.

He hissed and nipped my bottom lip. “You want to play?”

I practically purred at the challenge in his words.

He laughed, kissing me frantically before heaving himself upward. “You asked for it.”

With one quick motion of his hand, I was flipped onto my tummy. Sawyer lightly slapped my ass, eliciting a gasping yelp from me before he hooked his fingers into the lace band and slid it down, down, until it was free of my feet. He tossed the thong to the side as I watched his movements from over my shoulder. The sight of him there on his knees—those gloriously strong thighs, those ridiculously carved abs, and that hard-as-granite cock springing free of his boxer briefs—turned me molten and liquid.

But then he slid those fingers under my hips and hefted me up and up, until I was on my knees, my breasts still pressed against my mattress as he sank onto his back and slid his face underneath me.

I gasped when his warm lips met my sensitive flesh, as his tongue teased and tortured that swollen bud at the apex of my thighs. I writhed against his face as he feasted on me from beneath, the sensation so debilitating I could barely think around the feel of his tongue inside me, the feel of his fingers gripping my ass to prevent me from fleeing.

Like I ever would.

Over and over, he claimed me with strong thrusts of his tongue and teasing strokes of those fingers until I was an unbound thing writhing above him. Until I was nothing but his in that moment, his to control, his to torture.

“Echo,” he moaned against my aching flesh, the vibrations from his deep voice sending me to the edge. And with one long stroke of that tongue, that flame right down the center of me ignited, and I shattered completely.

“Sawyer!” His name ripped from my lips as I came on his tongue, him never ceasing with the expert flicks and dips as I rode his face through the aftershocks. My thighs trembled from the strength of it, from the intensity of it, but Sawyer didn’t waste time. No, he flipped me right over, until the cool sheets pressed against my sweat-slicked back.

He reached toward his pants on the floor, but I stopped him with a hand on his abdomen. I reached into my nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom from the box I’d bought after the first time Sawyer and I had sex. I knew, even then, that I’d let him up here. Let him in far enough to see where I lived.

I tried not to think on the meaning of that as I tore open the packet and rolled the condom onto Sawyer’s cock.

“Goddamn, Echo,” he hissed, his fingers in my hair as I teased him. A gentle nudge at my shoulder had me relinquishing control to him, falling back on the bed, open and bare and his for the taking. “Fucking perfect,” he said, settling between my thighs.

The weight of him was almost enough to shatter me again.

He slid his hand down my thigh, hooking my leg around his hip, teasing me with his tip. “So wet, so fucking responsive,” he growled as I arched to meet each of his sweeping teases. “And you taste like a fucking dream.”

The words made me whimper, and he drank the sound with a kiss. The taste of him and me combined set my blood on fire, so much I couldn’t kiss him hard enough, long enough—

“Oh, God!” I moaned as he slid in and in and in, all the way to the hilt.

He pulled all the way out just to do it over again.