Crank (The Gibson Boys 1)

My thighs clench together in a worthless attempt at quelling the incessant throb between my legs. I think he notices, the corner of his lip twitching in what I would guess is a halted smirk.

Biting down on his bottom lip, perhaps to avoid any further accidental giving-away of what he’s thinking, he hooks a finger in the waistband of each side of my shorts. The roughness of his finger running down my skin as he drags them to the floor causes my back to arch, a soft sigh escaping my throat.

As the fabric falls south, he bends along with it, until his face is level with my pussy. My shorts pooled at my feet and wearing only a faint pink lace bra and panty set, I gulp when he doesn’t immediately stand.

Crouched, he grips the table behind me with both hands, boxing me in. When he looks up, I almost melt. My knees threaten to give out as I take in the decadent smirk playing on his handsome face.

“The best part about this,” he says, his voice low and gravelly, “is going to be hearing you speechless for once.”

“I’m never speechless,” I lie. “You’re welcome to try though.”

A chuckle rumbles from his chest, the sound whispering over my bared flesh. I don’t even attempt to stop the quiver that comes as a result.

He places his hands on the globes of my ass, making me stutter a breath. His palms are splayed, his fingers covering my entire backside and kneading into my skin.

Before I’ve even processed this, before I can even wrap my brain around how we got here, his head falls forward.

“Ah,” I moan as his face buries into the crook of my legs. His breath is hot against my skin, his tongue working its way around the lace of my thong. “Walker . . .”

Instinctively, I begin to pull back, but I’m yanked forward and harder into his face. Catching myself on his shoulders, partially bent over his crouched position, he hums against my pussy.

“Oh, God,” I groan, threading my fingers into his hair as my eyes roll back in my head. As the warmth of his tongue slides down my slit and then back up again, I whimper.

“Words, Slugger,” he chuckles.

“Ah . . .”

The flat part of his tongue rolls against my clit, the swollen bud pulsing against him. He works it around and around, working me into a frenzy. I press his face against me by the back of his head, moaning as he slides one finger into my opening.

Widening my stance, wanting to give him as much access as necessary, I almost come when he inserts another finger.

“Walker,” I hiss, working my hips around. “Damn it. That feels so good.”

As if that was some kind of challenge, he draws them both out and then slides them in again, repeating this movement as I bury my fingernails into his shoulders. He tunes me like a car, making me hum like a well-oiled motor that revs only for him.

He sucks in my nub, caressing it with his warm, wet mouth until he feels my legs begin to shake. As my body nearly comes apart, my legs threatening to give away, he lifts me up and sits me hard onto the table. The tools sitting on the far end roll to the floor, clamoring about as they find the lowest point in the room to stop. All the while, Walker leans me back on the table, my legs dangling off the end as he fingers me relentlessly.

“My God . . .” I say, my voice bouncing with each thrust of his fingers. “Walker!” I shout as the sound of my wetness echoes off the walls of the shop.

“You’re still talking,” he laughs.

Despite the noise of the incessant strum of blood pouring by my ears, I hear the tear of lace as my panties break free from my body.

I don’t even look down. I can’t. All I can do is feel the heat of his mouth going in for the kill.

As soon as his lips hover over my clit, everything explodes. “Oh!” I moan, my knees pulling back as he laps up the juices that begin to coat my legs and the table beneath me.

His fingers work me every which way, a thumb hovering over the opening of my ass. I suck in a breath, only barely registering what he’s doing, but the pressure just adds to the chaos wreaking havoc in my overstimulated body.

The orgasm is so hard it’s almost painful, everything so sensitive it almost aches. As I land from the climax of my life, I open my eyes to see he’s watching me.

“Feel good?” he asks, slowing his fingers between my legs.

I only nod, my throat dry, yet my need for this man unquenched.

He grins at my reaction, an easy, free kind of smile that I’ve only seen him use with other people. If my face wasn’t already so red, I’d worry he would catch me blushing.