No Saint (Wild Men 6)

And lower, his hands pulling my panties down, then nudging my legs apart. Cool air hits me right there, where I’m burning for him to touch me, and I shiver. In the washed-out light of the moon falling through the slats, his hair is a silver halo between my thighs, his eyes dark and hazy with lust when he looks up.

His beautiful mouth curves into a lazy smirk. He licks his lips, and his warm breath washes over my exposed pussy. I’m wet, I realize, wet for him, and the whine echoing in my ears is coming from me.

Holy crap... am I dreaming? If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.

Especially when his face dips and his tongue, rough like a cat’s, parts my folds and drags a line of fire all the way to my aching clit, stopping there to toy with it, drawing a moan from my lips. I’m lost in a swirl of sensations, pressure gathering inside me, deep in my belly. My fingers leave his hair to tangle in the sheets, scrambling for something to hold on to when he drags his tongue down my seam again, dipping into my opening, then circling my clit.

Oh God, oh...

His lips, his tongue, his scruff are torturing me in the best way. He’s licking and sucking and then there’s more pressure, and I think he’s using his fingers, and oh boy... it’s an onslaught, an invasion, a rush, a storm. My legs are shaking, my body is straining, the pressure deep inside is mounting to the point of pain. He growls against my pussy, the sensitive skin scratched by his stubble, my clit throbbing like crazy, and launches another attack, sucking harder, letting his tongue drag more slowly, probing deeper, his fingers stroking me in rhythmical strokes, faster and faster—until...

My body jerks. My mouth falls open. I gasp, arch up, impaling myself on his fingers, and come with a cry, the pressure breaking, flooding me with exquisite, sharp pleasure.

“Ross...” I breathe. “Ross...”

“Dammit, girl.” He’s panting as much as I am as he lifts his head, gently drawing his fingers out, making me twitch with aftershocks. “You’re damn delicious. Ah fuck... What you do to me...”

I don’t know what to say, his words sending another hard throb through me, and I swallow a whimper. How can I still be aroused, want him again when he’s just made me come?

He reaches down, to adjust himself or jack himself, not sure, and I almost go cross-eyed trying to see. Dying to see, torn between watching his grimacing face and his hand around his big cock.

He pushes down his boxer briefs, as if hearing my thoughts, reading my desire, freeing his hard-on. It swings up, dripping wet and flushed, bigger than I remembered. Thicker, longer, the glint of metal under the head winking at me. I’m mesmerized by his long fingers wrapped around that thick length, pumping slowly, each slide causing him to grunt.

Good God, he’s sexy. Sexiest boy I’ve ever seen, the faint light catching the clean line of his square jaw, the dip of his brows, the cut of his cheekbones, and then that body... How was I supposed to ever stand a chance?

A question I pose to myself every time I’m with him, allowed to look and touch and feel—and now he glances up, gazing at me from under his lashes, and I could swear there’s more than lust there, in his eyes, his expression.

Before I have an opportunity to examine what I’m seeing, he bends over me, his mouth hovering over mine. “Touch me, sweets,” he says, a raw whisper. “Put your hand on my dick.”

Turned on by the idea, and by the fact he’s asking me to, I reach down between us and curl my hand around his thick girth. He groans and I drink in the sound, the way his eyes flutter closed, the way his lips part on an exhale. He’s still jacking off in slow strokes, our hands touching on his cock.

So hot.

He props an elbow by my head and leans in, his mouth moving hungrily over mine, a deep, scorching kiss. The impressive musculature of his chest and shoulders blocks out the room before he draws back.

“Want me?”

“Yeah...”

His mouth curves into a pleased grin. S

itting back, he draws a finger between my legs, dipping into my pussy, and groans. “You’re soaked. I’m big. You ready to take it?”

God, yes. I hope so. I know I want it. Not going to say I’ve never done this before, not going to care that he’s the last man I thought I’d lose my V-card to.

He is the only one I’ve ever really desired, and no, I’m not telling him this, either. Especially since rational thought goes flying out the window when he slides his hard cock between my legs, over my clit, then again, a long, slow rub that has me seeing stars.

God. I’ve just come from his mouth and his fingers, and I want more. I want him, in me. I reach for the hem of his T-shirt, wanting to see all of him bent over me, but he stops me, pries my hands away. He doesn’t wait for me to ask why, doesn’t explain, either.

He leans over me, smiling faintly, looking for all the world like a fallen angel, beautiful, his grin turning wicked as he guides his hard-on into me, and though I know he’s no angel, no saint... I want him just the same.

Maybe more.

His grin goes slack as he pushes into me, bracing his hands on either side of me, gazing down at me with eyes going wide.

The broad head of his cock breaches me, shoves into me with brutal force, and it’s both pain and pleasure. I arch up, spread my legs more, trying to allow him inside me, and he bends over me, panting and groaning.

The look on his face... eyes hazy with pleasure, dark with desire, his fair hair dark with sweat, plastered to his forehead, the look of awe stamped all over his expression...