“Oh,” I choke out, completely overcome. My skin breaks out in goosebumps when he pays attention to the other nipple, his mouth working wonders on my flesh.
“Rise up, baby,” he whispers, and it’s the way he calls me baby that has me melting. I brace my knees on the edge of the bed and lift up, his cock nudging at my entrance. He reaches around, adjusting himself, and when I slowly lower myself down on his length, we both groan in pleasure.
He’s deeper inside me like this, and I pause for a moment, allowing my body to readjust. This is only the third time we’ve had sex, and I feel as if we’re going from zero to sixty with this position, but oh my God, I don’t want to stop. I love how deep he is. How close we are.
I glance down at him, swooping in for a kiss, and it turns dirty in seconds. His tongue, his teeth, his lips. He’s trying to consume me, and I want to let him.
I want him.
“Rise back up,” he urges, and I do so, that slow glide of my body riding his cock nearly making my eyes cross with pleasure. I keep doing it. Up and down. Nice and slow. My gaze going to the mirror, zeroing in on the spot where our bodies are connected.
I can actually see him enter me, and that’s all it takes.
I’m coming, clutching him close, my inner walls milking him, wrenching the orgasm right out of him until he’s coming too. It’s too much. Not enough. I’m shaking so hard I swear to God I’m going to black out, and when it’s finally over, when all I can do is slump against him, my heart thundering in my ears, he slides his hands down my butt, touching the spot where his cock is still embedded inside my body. He slides his fingers up, along my crack, teasing that forbidden spot and sending a jolt of electricity racing through me.
“You like that?” he asks, his voice full of smug satisfaction.
“I-I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. I’m shocked he would touch me there.
He does it again, and I bite back a moan.
Though I have to admit, I liked it.
I liked it a lot.
FORTY-SIX
CREW
This girl, goddamn.
She is dirty and agreeable to anything, and so fucking responsive. The sounds she makes, the way she arches against me, as if she can’t get enough. When I went down on her from behind, her pussy was soaked, drenching my face as I ate at her flesh.
Fuck, I’d do it again. Right now, if she let me.
I took a risk, touching her asshole like that after she milked the orgasm right out of me. I wanted to test her. See what she was up for. I’m probably moving too fast.
But her pussy clenched up on me when I touched her there. She squirmed and whimpered and practically begged for more when I kept it up.
My little former virgin is up for anything.
How the fuck did I get so lucky?
Once we get cleaned up, we end up lying in my bed, lazing the rest of the afternoon away. She eventually grabs the lipstick and goes to the mirror above my dresser, bending over to watch herself carefully as she applies the deep red shade. Her ass is sticking up in the air and I can see the sweet shadow of her pussy in her pose.
My cock rises to the occasion, eager to get back inside.
She turns to face me, rubbing her ruby red lips together, the lipstick still clutched in her fingers. “What do you think?”
“Hot as fuck,” I say, my gaze on her tits.
She knows where I’m staring because she rests her empty hand on her hip, a frustrated noise leaving her. “I’m talking about my mouth.”
I level my gaze on her made-for-sin lips, painted a deep, rich red. “Come over here and wrap them around my dick. Then I’ll tell you what I think.”
Laughing, she caps the lipstick and sets it on the dresser before she saunters over to the bed. When she gets close enough, I grab hold of her, pulling her on top of me. I’m about to kiss those pretty lips, but she dodges away from my mouth.
“I have a plan,” she practically purrs.
“What is it?”
“I want to try and do the same thing I did last time.” When I frown, she explains, “I want to kiss you. Leave lipstick imprints on your skin. You said this shade would show up better, remember?”
I do remember. Wait until she sees what else I have in store for her.
“Have at it.” I open my arms wide and let them fall by my side, as if I’m helpless. She repositions herself, straddling me once again. She touches the ring—her ring—that hangs on my chain, her expression thoughtful.
“Do you want it back?” I ask, knowing what my answer will be if she says yes.
A firm no.
Wren slowly shakes her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to say when I’m asked where it is though.”
“You lost it?” Which is true.
She lost it—her virginity—to me.
“He’ll be mad.”
“He’ll be mad no matter what you tell him. What would he do if you told him the truth?” I raise a brow.
“Rip this right off your neck.” She traces the gold chain.
“I wouldn’t give him the opportunity.” My smile is smug. I could take Harvey Beaumont. That man doesn’t scare me. I’ve had to deal with my father and uncles my entire life. Those guys would slay Beaumont dead with just a fucking look.
“Ooh, you’re so tough,” Wren teases.
“You like it.”
“I do,” she whispers before she leans in and presses her mouth to my chest once. Twice.
A few more times.
I bend my head down, watching her leave her mark, pleased to see the red lipstick shows up, vivid against my skin. She leans back, studying her work, her lips curled up in a closed-mouth smile.
“I like it.”
I lift my gaze to hers. “You’re a little weird, Birdy.”
“I don’t think you mind though,” she says, her cheeks turning a faint pink.
“I like anything that makes you happy.” I reach for her but she leaps off my lap and grabs her phone. “You sure your dad won’t find these photos?”
“I’m positive.” She nods. “I changed my password.”
“What to?”
“Oh, I’m definitely not going to tell you.” She aims her phone at me, taking a few steps closer to focus tightly on where the kiss prints are. “This is going to look good.”
“And you said you didn’t want to recreate it,” I murmur.
She frowns. “Recreate what?”
“Your favorite piece. A million kisses in your lifetime. You’re doing that right now. I’m your canvas.”
She blinks at me. “I guess you are.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I want to do your back next,” she says as she checks out the photos on her phone. “Oh, this looks amazing. Just how I wanted it to.”
“You know what I want to do?”
“What?” she asks, her gaze still on the photos.
“I want to see those bright red lips wrapped tight around my cock.”
Her wide-eyed gaze lifts to mine. “No photos, right?”
I would love photos. I would never share them with a soul. Only her.
“If you don’t want me to take your picture, then I won’t,” I say. I’m no Larsen Van Weller, that’s for damn sure.
“I don’t.” She slowly shakes her head, and I realize in this instant, she still doesn’t fully trust me.
And I also realize in this instant, just as she dips her head and wraps those red lips tightly around the head of my cock, that I want her trust more than anything else in the world.
How did she get past the iron fortress and worm her way into my heart in such a short period of time? I was the one who refused to believe in relationships and love and all the bullshit that comes with it. When you’re in a family like mine, you witness fake love on a constant basis. With the generations before us, marriages were made as business transactions. Powerful families coming together and becoming that much more powerful. Hell, it still happens. Look at my sister, married to a man because of our family name and his.
I don’t want a fucking merger. I want someone I can laugh with. Someone who’s admittedly a little different and likes to press her lipsticked mouth to my skin. A sweet, innocent girl who has a dirty mind.
Like Wren.