“You need my name across your ass, so yeah. And then one above your dick that says ‘Dixieland Delight.’ I mean, the second one is optional but it would be a nice touch.”
A low chuckle begins in his throat and ends on my pelvic bone as he presses his lips to me. “You gonna get one for me, then?”
His warm breath tickles my center and I moan even though he hasn’t actually touched me anywhere other than my hip yet.
“I already have one for you,” I whisper, because even though he knows my secret, knows about the tattoo and what I taste like and how I feel on the inside, I’m still a little embarrassed. I’m busted. Between the black rose and the bluebird, I feel like I FUCKING LOVE YOU, GAVIN GARRISON is inked permanently across my forehead.
“Hmm. Apparently you do. Guess I owe you one then, Bluebird. Maybe even more than one.”
Before I can answer, he licks me hard and fast right between my legs. I cry out in shocked ecstasy, my moans stretching like a seamless instrumental into one long pleasure-filled ballad while he swipes his tongue through my throbbing center, around my clit, and back again.
“Oh God, Gavin. Oh God.”
He sucks my clit hard and releases it with a wet sound that nearly breaks me apart then and there.
“After tonight, you can’t say the words ‘Oh God’ and my name ever again. Got it?”
“W-what?” I’m aching to the point of pain for more and I’d gladly agree to sell a kidney on Craigslist if he’ll just finish what he started.
“Those words. You can’t say them after tonight. Ever.”
“Why?” Please touch me. Stop talking. Please touch me.
“Because,” he says evenly as if I’m not melting into a puddle and about to disappear down the drain with the water. “Every time I hear them, this is what I’ll think of. And me thinking of this, after tonight, will be very dangerous and detrimental to our agreement.”
Our agreement. One night.
“Screw our agreement, Gavin. Right now, if you don’t finish what you just started, I’m going to say ‘Oh God, Gavin’ every single time I see you. I might even whisper it to you in church.”
An enticing grin dances across his tempting mouth.
“You know what? Never mind, drummer boy. I can’t handle it.” Without giving him an opportunity to stop me, I dip my hand between my legs and stroke myself.
I keep my gaze trained on his until he looks away to watch my fingers finishing what he started.
“Feel good, baby?” He arches an eyebrow up at me.
“Not as good as your mouth and nowhere near as good as your big, thick . . . fingers,” I say with a teasing wink. “But I know how I like it. Years of wanting you to touch me have given me an extremely vivid imagination.”
I see it the moment the need blooms wild and bright in his darkening eyes. He’s crossed over from sweet and teasing to animalistic and dangerous. The way he did in the car when he lost it on his mom. I push the memory aside and let my instincts take over. Dipping my fingers inside my inviting heat, I move them until they’re slick and covered in my wetness before placing them against his lips.
“I love when you taste me, Gavin. How do I taste?”
He opens his mouth and sucks my fingers inside. Hard. He closes his eyes and I feel the throaty growl all the way to my insides.
I’ve barely blinked when he returns his mouth to the needy apex of my thighs. It was sweet in the bed, to take the edge off like he told me. But this is different. This is about gratification and pure, unadulterated need. His teeth graze over my sensitized flesh and I cry out his name.
Two of his fingers thrust into me, blanking my mind of any logical thoughts.
I hear my cries, the praise I’m raining down on him like water, the pleas for more. I’m outright begging him not to stop when I feel my body falling over into the abyss. It’s a rush, like spending years climbing a rocky mountain ridge only to rappel off it bungee-style when I get to the top.
I’m mid-release when he stands abruptly and slams his bare cock into me. A hiss slips through his teeth and falls onto my lips.