Mouth to Mouth (Beach Kingdom 1)

Rory’s mouth suctioned hard to the side of her neck, his big hand gripping her right butt cheek in a rough massage. “Do we have a deal, baby?” His tongue licked over the spot on her neck where he’d definitely left a mark. “When it’s this easy for someone to get their hands on your beautiful ass, I want to be with you. Because that won’t be happening. Not unless it’s me.” He squeezed hard enough to make her sob. “Only these hands touch you here. Everywhere. My life flashed in front of my fucking eyes when I saw that guy’s arm around your shoulders, so I’m going to be a bastard about this one thing, Olive. Please. Make the deal.”

“No thong and short skirt combo when I go out,” she hiccupped, pressing back into his touch, craving more of it the more she was given. “Not unless you’re with me. I promise.”

“Good girl.” Before she could guess his intentions, Rory rolled Olive onto her back and slid down low on the bed, putting his mouth on level with her sex. His expression was focused and hungry as he stripped off her thong, exposing her for only a second before his tongue found her in a teasing lick that parted her wet folds. “Now I’ll show you my end of the deal,” he said thickly, kissing the lips between her thighs in the same manner he would her mouth. “Keep this all for me and I’ll make sure it’s always satisfied.”

Rory’s calloused fingers made a V to keep her open for his mouth, and with eyelids at half-mast, he dragged the flat of his tongue over her clit, back and forth, side to side. Side to side. Olive’s vision wavered, a cry of his name sticking in her throat. Lights winked on the ceiling of Rory’s bedroom briefly resembling the big dipper, her fingers tangling in his hair. Rory almost knocked her hold on the strands free when he slung her thighs over his broad shoulders, but Olive held fast, whimpering at the new angles the position made available.

“Goddamn, baby. So wet,” Rory growled, his shoulders flexing underneath her thighs, his hips shifting against the edge of the bed. “I spend every second of the day wanting to eat you up for a good reason. Your pussy is a drug. My fucking drug.”

A hard shudder went through Olive’s body. She’d always pictured her first time as a necessary evil. A gateway to eventual better things. But here she was, grinding herself onto Rory’s giving tongue, pulling his face closer, babbling incoherently up at the stars that continued to wink on the ceiling. Her thighs alternated between a melted butter sensation and bow-tight quickening, her throat straining with the need to scream. Better wasn’t possible. “Oh my God. S-stop. I’m going to…”

Rory’s thumb tucked just inside her entrance, rubbing at the flesh beyond. “You’re going to come? Good.” His eyes were glazed and hot, fastened to Olive’s face as he flickered his tongue against her clit, once, twice. “That’s what happens when I lick your pussy, baby. Just give in.”

A tether snapped inside of Olive and a hot river of relief tore through her, throwing her back up into an arch, her fingers tearing at Rory’s hair. His mouth was no longer teasing, no longer finessing. No, he was greedy. While her private flesh seized, released, seized, he lapped at her, making low sounds in his throat, as if he couldn’t get enough of her taste. That visible enjoyment prolonged Olive’s orgasm until her sides started to throb with the strain.

When her vision cleared, Rory was above her, his harsh, handsome face shadowed, his hair a wreck from her desperate fingers. “We can stop now,” he said on a shaking exhale and Olive saw he’d unfastened his pants, one hand out of sight inside the loosened denim, forearm flexing, flexing, as he stroked himself. “I can stop,” he rasped, as if trying to convince himself.

“No,” she breathed, physically aching with the need to have their skin pressed together. So much so that she whipped her tank top off, her shaking fingers fumbling with the front snap of her strapless bra. “Come here. Please? Come…”

Rory laid his warm hand on top of hers, lowering his mouth and distracting her with a kiss as he undid her bra, pushing the silky cups aside and palming her right breast. She could feel the weight of his erection drop to her bare belly, full and hard.

“I want you on top of me,” she said in a thready rush.

She couldn’t decipher his exact expression. It had notes of wonder, disbelief and deep sexual frustration. But it was intense enough to stall the rapid filling and emptying of her lungs. Rory braced his forearms on either side of her and eased down, giving Olive his weight little by little, both of them moaning at the contact. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned into her neck. “You’re wrecking me, sunbeam.”