Page 22 of Wandering in Love
“Wait.”
“No.” The word is more a growl than anything else.
“Ian,” she moans when my hand caresses her stomach. “We need to talk.”
“Later.” Sitting up, I reach for her pants and pull them down her legs to drop on the floor.
The dark blue lace of her panties taunts me with its peak-a-boo look at what I crave. Gripping the center of her underwear, I jerk the fabric until it rips. She gasps, but her objection turns into a guttural moan when my tongue sweeps up her pussy. Her flavor explodes in my mouth, sweet and musky. Like a starved man, I devour every inch of her, licking her lips, lapping up her juices, sucking on her clit. Two fingers slide inside her easily. She’s soaked for me, ready for whatever I want to give her. With a come-hither motion of my fingers and my lips around her clit, her back bows off the bed and she comes with a strangled moan. Her hand rips at my hair and her hips ride my face. I watch her every move, wanting more.
“No one touches this pussy but me.” I sink my teeth into her inner thigh, leaving my mark on her skin.
Wiping my mouth off, I pull the towel off my hips and sink home. Her pussy grips me tight, swollen with her orgasm, her muscles still fluttering. Desperate for the fall, I set a brutal pace, riding her hard, leaving bruises on her hips, my body snapping against hers as I chase the high only her body can give me.
“You’re fucking mine, Wildflower. Mine.”
Her back arches off the mattress again, her hands gripping my blankets and her head thrashing on the bed. A light sheen of sweat covers my body.
Leaning forward, I wrap my hand around her throat. Her breathing turns to a wheeze, and my dick hardens at the sound, at the control I have over her.
As I reach for her, her fingers wrap around my wrist.
Using my hold on her, I roll us so she’s riding me. Her palms flatten against my chest as she catches herself. Pulling her lips to mine, I claim her mouth as my cock claims her pussy. I thrust up into her, my thumb circling her clit until she’s squeezing me in a vise grip.
“Please,” she rasps, her eyes on mine.
“Give it to me.”
Just as her orgasm peaks, I release her throat, and she screams, my name falling from her lips while my hips buck into her. A tingle starts at my lower back and quickly consumes me, filling her pussy with my seed. She falls forward on my chest, boneless.
I’m breathing hard, coated in sweat and contentment. This is the way I should start every day. My eyes close and I toss an arm over Eva’s back while we recover.
“Shit.”
I sigh, knowing she’s about to fight me. She came here for a reason, and a booty call wasn’t it.
Eva pushes against my chest and climbs off. My now half-soft dick slaps against my stomach as she grabs her clothes and finds the bathroom.
Shit. Is she on birth control?
I scrub a hand down my face and sit up. Opening a dresser drawer, I find a pair of pajama pants and slide them on. I have a feeling this isn’t a “naked” conversation.
Knowing she’s going to come out of the bathroom swinging, I head to the kitchen to make coffee. She’s obviously been awake for a while and can think clearly. I need to catch up.
I’m pouring coffee into my mug when she stomps in.
“God damn it, Ian!” she hollers, her hand on her hip and chest heaving.
“Morning, Wildflower.” I lean back against the counter, taking a drink and wincing when I burn my tongue.
“Don’t you Wildflower me.”
Setting the mug on the counter, I crowd her against the wall, leaning into her space.
“You’re my wildflower whether you want to admit it or not.”
The pulse in her neck jumps.
“You’re mine.”