“Thirsty for more?”
Her reply might have been the most inelegant sound her vocal cords ever produced, but he wouldn’t be confused about the meaning. Not when she crawled closer, grabbed his ass with both hands, and proceeded to take him deep, shallow, and take more, reveling in the urgent thrusts he couldn’t restrain. When he swore and withdrew, she pressed her face to his cock, nuzzled him, licked him from base to tip while his fingers tangled in her hair and kept her close.
“Slow. Slower. As slow as you can—”
She rose up high on her knees and took him in again, digging her nails into his sweat-slick skin to keep him in place when he tried to withdraw.
“Hold on. Fuck, Roxy, do you need a distraction?”
Somehow, he moved without toppling either of them and nudged his leg between hers. Sweet heaven, a hard, male limb had never felt more crucial against the insides of her thighs. Frantic to ease the pressure building inside, but unwilling to relinquish his cock, she centered herself as best she could and rubbed against him—up and down, side to side, faster and faster.
His hand moved to the back of her head, grabbing and releasing handfuls of her hair as he encouraged, “That’s it. That’s my girl. Dance for me.”
It was far less graceful than dancing, but either way, she gradually found a rhythm, rocking up every time he thrust into her mouth, sinking back when he withdrew. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Her insides began to quiver, but she couldn’t break stride. Couldn’t interrupt the tempo of his cock plunging between her lips. They were numb and clumsy now—a slippery threshold she barely controlled.
Thankfully, he took charge. A low groan served as warning, and then he went deep, deep, and deeper yet as long spurts flooded her throat. He fucked his way through the release, giving her little chance to swallow. Liquid leaked from the corners of her mouth and gushed down her chin in two icy-hot rivers that burned paths to her nipples. The droplets hung there, gathering weight and volume until the next thrust sent them raining to the floor. Her body felt equally saturated, too heavy to move, as if he was pumping his orgasm down her throat and out her pores.
Then he bent low and slapped her ass. “Go.”
That snapped her out of her lethargy. She reared up, squeezed his leg between her thighs, and came with a choked cry and an almost painful shudder. He let her ride it out, not easing her onto all fours until the last tremble rattled through her.
Eyes closed, still gasping for breath, she sensed more than heard him crouch down to her level. Something soft swiped her chin. Startled, she jerked away, but he bracketed the back of her head with one hand and held her in place. The swipe came again, slightly damp this time, and she realized he was cleaning her face with the comforter. He moved on to her lips, wiping gently back and forth, as if he knew how swollen and sensitive they were in the aftermath of all that friction. When he finished, she ran her tongue over the upper one then the lower. They felt puffy and tender in the best possible way.
“What do you taste, Roxy?” His breath fluttered the hairs by her ear.
“You,” she whispered.
“That’s right.” He traced the perimeter of her lips with a gentle finger. “This mouth is mine now, Reckless, whether you kiss me with it or not.”
Chapter Sixteen
A desire for lemonade and a change of clothes on his ice-cream date’s part ended with West lying across Roxy’s unmade bed, enjoying an orgasm-induced endorphin rush brought on by helping her ride him to a tit-bouncing, mattress groaning, West-West-ohmigod-West climax. They hadn’t yet gotten around to the refreshment or change of clothes—unless getting naked counted as a change—but he didn’t think she minded. When her final spasm hugged his shaft, she whimpered and wilted over him. He savored that for a moment, too—her face against his neck, the soft weight of her breasts on his chest, his hands still kneading her now calm ass.
Eventually, she sighed and pushed herself onto her arms so she could look down at him in drowsy-eyed satisfaction. “Can I interest you in some lemonade now?”
He gave her butt a final squeeze and then pinched the base of his cock to hold the condom in place. “I wouldn’t say no.”
“One lemonade coming right up.”
“Take your time. I’m in no rush.”
With her hands braced on either side of his head, she slowly leaned forward. Her eyelids fluttered and her cheeks flushed from the sensations of withdrawal, but when he slipped out entirely, she closed her eyes and bit her lip.
Immediately, he pressed his palm to her center. “Sore?”
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head but didn’t open her eyes. “Just…adjusting. I can’t explain.”
He slid two fingers inside her—barely penetrating—and stroked. “Better?”
She tipped her head back a notch, and her cheeks turned a shade pinker. “Yes.”
“You need a little more attention here?” He stroked her a bit faster, but no deeper. “A better exit strategy?”
“I do.” Her hips found the pace. “I think. Just a little more.”
“Because you miss me when I’m not inside you?”
“I don’t know. I can’t ex—”
“You can’t explain. Right. How about if I explain something to you, Rox? I missed being inside you all day.” He stroked faster, penetrated a degree deeper. Watched her start to fight for the finish. “At one point this afternoon, I missed it so hard I climbed back into bed and jacked off to your scent and my memories of how it got all over my sheets.”
“Oh, god.” She rocked against his palm in a series of short, rapid surges, each accompanied by its very own “Oh, god.” Her body twitched, inside and out, and then her breath burst from her lungs in a sudden release. This time he stayed with her as she came down, bestowing increasingly lighter, shallower touches until
