The Bet (Winslow Brothers 1) - Page 26

We haven’t kissed. We haven’t fucked. Hell, I haven’t even rubbed my hand up the skin of her thigh.

As a result, my nuts feel as if they’re going to explode.

She turns the key in the lock on her door, and I hear the click of the bolt as it disengages with the jamb. I watch the line of her throat closely, observing as her perfect little freckle vibrates up and down with the zing of her excitement.

She swings open the door, gesturing for me to step inside first, and I don’t bother with objecting to the offer. Seeing as this is her place, I don’t imagine she’s going to lock me inside and take off, destination unknown.

I nearly laugh at myself, but frankly, I’m too far gone in my need to fuck her until she can’t breathe to give it any real energy.

She steps inside behind me, closing the door, and I take the opportunity to survey the space.

Her apartment is roomy for New York, with a separate kitchen, living room, and an actual hall that leads to a couple other doors that I assume are for bedrooms. It’s comfortable and girlie, and when I turn back and see her standing awkwardly at the kitchen counter while I appraise her place, that only makes it better.

“Do you, um, want something to drink?” she asks, shifting herself from one foot to the other and then turning to the cabinet behind her to pull out a glass.

I cross the room toward her, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her back against me. She gasps at the unexpected contact—and likely, the feel of my hard cock as it presses into the crack of her ass—and drops the glass to the counter with a clang.

Thankfully, it doesn’t break.

I shake my head behind her, sneaking my lips around to the shell of her ear. “The only thing I’m thirsty for…is you.”

“Oh God,” she breathes in reply, her entire body starting to tremble.

“I plan to fuck you so good you won’t walk straight in the morning,” I tell her, nipping at the line of her throat beneath her ear. “Are you all right with that, Sophie?”

She nods, the air from her lungs coming out in sharp, distinct pants.

“I need you to say it aloud, baby.”

“Y-yes,” she manages shakily.

Spinning her quickly, I grab her by the hips and lift her onto the counter, sliding my hands to grip the backs of her bare thighs.

She gasps, and I pounce on the opportunity to put my mouth to hers.

She tastes sweetly of alcohol and those fucking cherries she taunted me with toward the end of the evening.

“Mm,” I hum directly into her mouth, moving one of my hands to the back of her head and sinking it into the long brown tresses.

She moans, and I grip the strands and pull, exposing the long line of her perfect throat.

“I might be rough the first time, Sophie. Can you handle that?”

She nods and then quickly voices her answer too, clearly a fast learner. “Yes.”

Shoving my hands under her ass, I lift her off the counter, and our next destination is simple—her bed.

We’ll save the adventure of the kitchen counter and the shower and all the places that require some acrobatics for the second and third rounds. For this one, I just need room to work.

I walk quickly down the hallway while she takes control of the kissing, pausing briefly at the first door I come to until she groans and shakes her head, throwing an arm back behind herself to point to the end of the hall.

“That one,” she mumbles against my mouth, making me grin.

Resuming course, I travel the rest of the hallway and turn the knob to open her door, pulling my head away for just a moment to get a lay of the land in the room.

The last thing I want to do is trip and take us both down in a heap.

Her bed is just as I’d expect from the rest of the apartment, girlie and dainty with a deep-purple comforter and white-tufted throw pillows. There’s a plush white blanket tossed across the bottom of the bed as well, but as soon as I get close enough, I drop her down on her back and shove the loose blanket out of the way.

She scurries up the mattress some in a modified crab walk, and I don’t hesitate to follow her right in.

She lies back, her hair fanning out on her pillow, and her knees come up as she places her feet on the bed.

As I shove her thighs apart, her dress slides farther up her hips, and I close my mouth over the thin scrap of lace she’s using to cover the promised land and suck. Her back arches, and the most amazing taste hits my tongue.

Tags: Max Monroe Winslow Brothers Romance
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