Wild Kisses (Wildwood 2)

He circled his tongue over her entrance, and sensation washed over her sex, her pelvis, deep into her core. “Yes.”

He closed his lips and sucked, shooting an electric current through her, and she shuddered. “Don’t stop. God, that’s so good.” She was fighting a frenzy of lust-laden need. “Ah, God, yes.”

His mouth closed with suction, massaging her gently with a moan of utter bliss.

“God, Trace . . .”

The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, swift, intense, overwhelming. She tumbled and tumbled, the ecstasy dragging her under. And while she was struggling to find the surface, another wave hit, spinning her head over ass again.

She was still shaking when Trace released one of her hands. She threw her forearm across her face, panting, spinning, floating. “Jesus . . . fucking . . . Christ . . .”

Then Trace was pulling her legs around his waist, dragging her up by the arms and lifting her against his body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on the best she could. “Where . . . are we . . . going?”

“Shower.” He started out of the kitchen, and Avery lifted her head from his shoulder.

“What shower?”

“I finished the shower in the apartment.”

She pressed her forehead to his temple to stop the spinning. “When did you do that?”

“Yesterday. I’m going to wash all this sticky off and finally get inside you with water spilling over your gorgeous body.”

“Mmm. Love the sound of that.” As he started up the stairs, she released his neck and felt for his jeans. Popped the button, forced the zipper down.

Trace stumbled. “Fuck.” He leaned against the rail. “Don’t do that while I’m trying to get up the stairs, baby.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—does that make it hard to walk?” She lifted her head and grinned at him while stroking a hand inside his boxers and getting a handful of long, thick heat. “Oh,” she laughed the word. “Guess you were saving the best for last?”

He covered her mouth with a groan and a heavy sweep of his tongue before pulling back with a breathless, “Stop it. Let me get you upstairs.”

Now she was having some fun. “Is it hard to think while I’m touching you?” She wiggled out of his arms and pushed more clothes out of the way while Trace settled a death grip on the railing. “How hard do you think it will be to think if I were sucking you?”

A growl rolled out of Trace’s throat. He grabbed her around the waist with his free arm and looked directly into her eyes with a clear and predatory sparkle of dominance. “The first time I come, it’s going to be inside you.”

The ferocity of his tone and the underlying innuendo of ownership in his words ripped away the veil of playfulness. He could tell himself whatever he wanted, but Avery had spent every day around the man for two months, and somewhere between sitting on the kitchen floor and now, this had shifted out of the casual arena. She didn’t fool herself—or scare herself—into thinking that meant whatever this was would last beyond tonight, but it exposed his layers. Layers that o

nly made him more attractive.

To balance his intensity, she kept it light, twisting to loosen his grasp with a teasing, “Maybe you’re not in control anymore, Hutton.” She licked her lip and scraped it between her teeth the same way he had. “Because I’m hungry now.”

When she finally pulled his cock from his jeans and lowered to take him in her mouth, Trace stepped down a stair, wrapped his arm around her waist, and turned her away from him, then trapped her between the banister and his body. His swift movement and sheer strength whipped a thrill through her chest.

With his mouth at her ear, he rasped, “I’m not going to make it to the shower if you put your mouth on me here. And I told you”—he slowed his words, speaking deliberately—“the first time I come, it’s going to be deep inside you.”

Okay, maybe she had tipped back one glass of wine too many, because somehow, she found this little power trip both sexy and amusing.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, bit his jaw, and used a jaunty little voice filled with attitude to ask, “Does someone have control issues?”

A low growl sounded in the back of his throat and transitioned into, “Fuck it.” He released the banister and reached behind him. “Forget the shower.”

“What? Wait, I want the shower—”

“You’ll get your goddamned shower.” The unique crackle of a foil pouch sounded just before his hips moved away, and he rolled on a condom. Then he gripped her waist and pulled her back against him. His cock rode the curve of her ass, long and thick and hard. “You’ll just get it after I get you.”

He covered her hands and pressed them to the rail, then pulled her hips toward him and used his knee to push one thigh up a stair.

Nerves tangled with excitement. She glanced over her shoulder but didn’t get any words out before his cock stroked along her opening. Her breath froze in her lungs, and her fingers tightened around the rail. She dropped her head back against his shoulder. “Oh, yes.”