“Fuck, Summer. Fucking look at you.”
She whimpers, hands falling to her tits like she’s trying to cover them. But I catch her rolling her nipples between her thumb and forefinger, clearly trying to avoid answering my question.
“Tell me. Tell me why you want me.”
Her lips roll together, her panting audible.
“You want this?”
She nods.
“Talk to me, Summer. You want me to fill this tight little cunt?”
“Fuck,” the word whooshes out of her as her eyes widen in surprise. Such a proper little princess.
“Have I got your attention now?”
“You’ve always had my attention, Rhett.” Her confession comes out quiet and soft. Like a secret shared between lovers. And like a balm to my deepest wounds.
I groan and reach forward, running my thumb over the seam of her pussy, feeling her pulse and clench against me. Feeling how wet the lace there is already. Nudging the strip of fabric aside, I push a finger in and revel in her, smooth and slick. Drenched.
“You’re soaked, Summer. Is that mess all for me?”
I swear I can see her cheeks flush pink, more of a purple in the blue glow.
“Yes,” she says meekly, sounding almost embarrassed. And, well, that’s just not going to do.
She needs to know how wild this makes me.
“I love it,” I growl, dropping to one knee, slinging her leg over my shoulder and tugging her ass to the edge of the bed. When I pull the scrap of lace to the side, I feast my eyes on what I’d only felt before.
“All this for me.” I rub her pussy again, feeling her leg clamp down on my shoulder as her head shyly flips to one side. “What a fucking treat.”
She tries to press closed her free leg, and I slide one finger into her wet heat while tutting her. “Nah, nah, nah. Don’t get all shy now. Legs wide open for me, Princess.”
I slide one hand up the back of her thigh to open her as she breathes out a quiet, “Okay.”
Pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee, making sure she feels the rasp of my beard, I ask, “Should I keep going?”
She takes a beat to respond. So, I wait, bestowing more kisses up her inner thigh, grinning when her hips buck. “I’ve never . . . well, this is new.”
I freeze for a moment, looking over her outline from where I’m kneeling. “New? Like no one has tasted this?” I rub her again, and my cock jumps when I realize she’s even wetter than before.
She shakes her head no.
Doctor Douche really is the fucking worst. But I don’t say that. Instead, I reach for the lace underwear and drag them down her legs. If this is going to be her first time riding a man’s face, it’s going to be good. And there aren’t going to be any fancy panties in the way.
When they clear her ankles, I resume my position. “That’s a crime, Summer. A terrible shame.” I slide a finger in and feel her contract around me as she gasps. “It seems I have some wrongs to right.” I pump in and out, raptly watching her pussy take my finger, and then two. “And I’m not even sad about it. Do you know why?”
“Why?” she replies quickly, voice all raspy and thick.
“Because if this were my last moment on earth, that’s how I’d want to go.” I thrust in hard now, watching her body shake with the force, hearing her curse. “Head between these pretty little thighs, your pussy on my tongue.”
I hold her wide open, drop my head, and get to work.
22
Summer
My eyes roll back in my head, and I see stars. Bright and shiny, almost blinding. I’ve heard good sex compares to an out-of-body experience, and I never quite understood that sentiment.
But with Rhett Eaton’s face between my legs, I do.
Both his muscled arms loop around my legs, and one hand splays across my stomach, holding me down. The other is wrapped tight around my thigh, and his fingers dig in so hard that I feel like he might leave bruises right next to the ones from the saddle pinching me a few days earlier.
His tongue.
His. Tongue.
His goddamn tongue.
He’s licking me, almost the way he did at the whipped cream on my breasts, reverently, but with just enough pressure. Just enough suction.
Just the right amount of teeth. He slides his tongue right into me, and when I try to squirm, his calloused hand pushes me harder into the too-soft mattress beneath my back. His beard is prickly and rough against my pussy. Grating on my inner thighs. Increasing my pleasure tenfold. Partly because of the actual sensation, and partly because, well, because it’s Rhett.
Rhett Eaton. My teenaged crush. Rhett Eaton. Sex symbol. Rhett Eaton. Ladies’ man.
Or is he? I’m thinking that’s an outdated perception that he hasn’t been able to shake.
He said he’s been obsessed with me. That was almost as shocking as how good it feels to have his mouth between my legs.
I thought Rhett hated me but tolerated me.
But based on the things he’s said, it seems I have been wrong. Very, very, wrong.
“Rhett!” I cry out, one hand still working at my nipple while my other shoots down to his head. I’m alternating between feeling self-conscious and not giving a fuck because it’s just so damn good.
He pulls back, pausing, “Tell me what you want, Summer.”
He’s killing me with all this talking. Having to say things out loud is firmly outside my comfort zone. For a man who’s never been huge on chatting, he sure has a lot to say once my clothes come off.
I push up onto my elbows and look down at him, his eyes still fixed on my pussy. “I want you to stop making me say things out loud.” I half laugh.
His eyes flit up to mine and he grins, the most carnal grin, before he licks his lips and winks at me. “What can I say? I like your pink cheeks and watching you squirm.”
I blush harder.
He gently unhooks my legs and stands, towering over my exposed body. Making me feel remarkably vulnerable. He drops his ruined shirt on the floor and quirks a brow at me. “Did I tell you to stop?”
“Stop what?”
“Touching yourself. Keep going.”
I swallow, wondering how I’m reacting to him this strongly. It’s consuming, and I don’t even consider saying no. Instead, I fall back onto the bed and slide one hand up my stomach before gripping my breast.
I do the same with the opposite, but when my knees tilt inward, his calloused palm gives one leg a little push open. “I’m not done with that,” he growls as he shucks off his pants, turning briefly to pull something out of his bag, giving me a glorious view of his ass.
Round and muscled, and so goddamn grabbable.
When he comes back, he’s holding a foil condom package. His cock is huge and hard and it’s pointing straight at me. “You still want this, Summer?”
He sounds almost uncertain now, like he’s concerned I might turn him away.
“Yes,” I breathe, wanting to give him more. “I want you inside me.”
The locks of his hair have flopped over his face. He looks messy and delicious, and I think even a little bit self-conscious. I wonder what he wants me to say? What he’s trying to urge out of me?
I thought it was all dirty talk, but the way he’s watching me now as he rolls a condom over his steely length has me wondering if it’s something else.
“I want you on top of me,” I blurt out awkwardly as I sit up. My dirty talk needs work. His eyes narrow as he fists his cock, but I keep my gaze on his face as he advances on me, my heart thundering against my ribs. Like it wants to jump out of my body and give itself to this man.
Like it knows something I don’t.
With him finally hovering over me, I reach between us to grip his thick cock. And it is thick. “Jesus. I’m going to pay for this tomorrow, aren’t I?”
Rhett smirks. “If you’re not walking bow-legged tomorrow, I won’t have done my job tonight.”
Now he looks so playful, so delicious, so confident. His full attention is on me, and only me. He looks like the type of man I could easily get wrapped up in and be left standing with nothing but a broken heart at the end.
I swipe the head of his cock against my slick core, grinding on his tip, watching his eyes flutter shut.
He kisses me, a searing kiss that has my toes curling and my hips arching up to meet him. And then, he’s pushing into me—slow, and steady, and delicious—filling me up and giving my body the time it needs to adjust. I lift a leg and wrap it around his back, pulling him nearer. Wanting him closer.
“Fuck, Summer,” he growls against my lips. “Just fuck. How are you this fucking tight?”
My nails skate over his back as I let my hands roam in a way they never did while I massaged him. There is nothing remotely professional about the way I’m touching Rhett Eaton right now.
When he bottoms out, resting in the cradle of my hips, he groans. “Are you okay? Because I think this is about as long as I can handle being gentle.”
I nip at his chin. “I thought I told you to ruin me?”