Page 95 of Only and Forever
Heat pulses through me, turning my cock rock hard. “Hands to ourselves. But not our eyes.”
“Exactly,” she whispers.
I crash down on her again, a hard, hungry kiss. “Fuck yes.”
“I want that woman erased from your memory,” she mutters, tugging me back with her, toward the club chairs.
“She was never there to begin with, Lu. I want you to forget that flirty fucker ever existed.”
She laughs. Laughs! “Please, I was not interested. He’s got neck tatts. After Clint, I’m over people with tatts for life.”
I pull back, breathing roughly, as I undo one button of my shirt, then another. “Then I’ve got bad news for you, Clarke.” I shake off my shirt hastily, tossing it aside. “Because I’ve got ink.”
Tallulah’s mouth falls open. “Fuuuck,” she groans. Her hand comes to my shoulder, to the mountains and evergreens, the water running through it, spilling toward my pec.
“Deal-breaker?” I ask.
She shakes her head quickly. “Never mind. Tatts are fine. Great, actually.”
I drag her back into my arms and kiss her, taking her mouth with my tongue the way I want so badly to take her with my cock, deep and slow. Tallulah pulls away, panting, and says, “Sit down.”
I smile down at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
She pushes me gently by the chest, hand splayed right over my pounding heart, and I drop with athudinto the club chair. Itswivels with the force of my landing, but I plant my feet wide to steady myself, then go right for my belt buckle.
Tallulah hooks a foot in the nearby chair, drags it closer, then drops onto it, rucking her dress up her thighs. She drapes one leg over the arm of the chair, revealing the faint outline of her lace panties.
“Who the hell turned off the lights?” I mutter sourly.
Tallulah laughs, shrugging the sleeves of her dress down off her shoulders, past her cleavage, revealing a matching blush-pink bra that barely covers her nipples, dark and pointed beneath the lace.
“Jesus Christ,” I groan, my hips lifting reflexively as I unzip my pants and press my palm down my pulsing cock. “You have the most magnificent tits, Lu.”
She smiles and slides her fingers beneath her panties. I swear under my breath, drink in the sight of her rubbing herself.
Her eyes fix on the bulge at my briefs. “Why, thank you,” she says.
I shove my briefs down, spit on my hand, then grip myself. Her smile wipes clean off her face. “Oh God,” she whispers, watching me.
“Touch your tits, Clarke.”
She bites her lip. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Tell me you don’t want to.”
Her back arches as she groans in frustration. “Asshole.” Her hand goes to her breast, overflowing her grip. She plucks at her nipple. My hips rock up as I watch her, making myself go slow, torturously controlled strokes into my fist that make my molars grind.
“Touch them,” she orders, eyes down at my balls, drawn up tight.
“Shit,” I groan, doing as she says. I won’t even pretend I don’t want to—be ordered around by her or do what she’s told me.
Tallulah’s hand is moving faster beneath her underwear. She growls in frustration, lifts her hips, and yanks off her panties.
“Fuck,” I moan, eyes fixed on what I can see, which in the dim light isn’t much, but it’s a hell of a lot more than I’ve ever seen, even in shadow. Even from here, I can see how wet she is. “You’re gonna kill me, Lula. I’m so fucking close.”
“I am, too,” she pants, rubbing herself in earnest now. “Oh God, Viggo.”
“That’s it,” I grit out, pumping myself. “Rub that pretty pussy for me, Lula. Make yourself come.”