One Wicked Week Page 18
But he’d never, ever wanted anything more than what he had right now—Jo Marchande in his bed, wanting him.
He had to make this good.
“Spread your legs.” He clasped her ankles in long fingers, rubbing his thumb over the tender skin at the inside of each. She shuddered, then gasped when he tugged, pulling her to the edge of the bed. Kneeling on the plush carpet that covered his bedroom floor, he hooked her legs over each of his shoulders, opening her wide. Exposing that part of her that he craved.
“Theo... I’ve never...” Jo squirmed, her heels digging into his back. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“You don’t have to do anything except take what I give you.” Beneath his avid stare, the thin cotton of those panties grew wet. He traced it with a finger, circling the hard bud of her clit, and she shuddered in response.
He pressed his lips to the supple skin on the inside of her thigh, just above the curve of her knee. Her quick exhale told him that she was trying desperately to hold her breath. That she was nervous.
Knowing that the nerves would only help to heighten her pleasure, he slid his lips up only the barest inch, determined to draw out the sensations for her. She shifted, and he could feel her heat, smell her arousal.
Trailing his lips farther up her thigh, he teased them both by trailing his tongue over the crease that divided her leg from her abdomen. She jerked beneath his mouth with a breathless laugh.
“Liked that, did you?” He repeated the motion, and she groaned. He slid his mouth up even more, closer to his goal, savoring the salt on her skin.
“Theo,” she breathed as he brushed his lips over the soaked fabric of her panties. “Oh God. I can’t—”
“Oh yes, you can.” He flicked his tongue over the cotton, and her hips lifted off the bed.
“I’ve waited so long for this.” Nuzzling his nose against her heat, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her simple underwear. Not wanting to take the time to pull them all the way off, he pulled hard and grinned when they ripped, allowing him to toss them aside.
She didn’t give him hell for destroying a second item of her clothing, just rocked from side to side on the cool sheets of his bed. He took a moment to simply look at the glistening pink of her center, hot and wet and all for him.
Jo groaned. This was the only time she got quiet, his girl—when she was aroused. It made him want to drive her so crazy that she got loud again.
It made him want to make her scream his name.
Inhaling her scent, which reminded him of some kind of exotic cinnamon, he leaned forward and swiped his tongue through her folds.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, arching up off the bed. He licked again, and she tried to close her legs against the onslaught of sensation, but he was there, the width of his shoulders holding her wide-open.
With long, slow swipes of his tongue, he licked her from bottom to top, brushing the flat of his tongue over the hard nub of her clit every time. She tasted so sweet, and he wanted more.
Using his thumbs, he parted her lips, focusing his attention on the swollen bud. Her heels began to drum into his back, her breath coming in gasps.
“Theo. I can’t. It’s too much.” He could tell that her arousal was spiking hard and high. She didn’t have much experience—hell, any experience—and he knew that it wouldn’t take much to send her over.
That was good. He was going to make her come now, and then again. He was going to make sure that she was so ready for him that when it came to the part that might hurt, she would simply melt around him like ice cream left in the hot, hot sun.
Copyright © 2019 by Lauren Hawkeye
ISBN-13: 9781488048708
One Wicked Week
Copyright © 2019 by Nicola Marsh
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