Page 21 of Moonflower

“Get up here.”

I scramble to my feet. My hands go to his chest, splaying over his hard muscles. Our mouths meet like two oceans colliding, powerful waves crashing against each other endlessly.

“Shit, Moonflower. What I’d do to make that mouth of yours taste like me.”

“I wouldn’t stop you,” I whisper.

But he shakes his head. “Not tonight. I have other plans for you.”

I shiver in anticipation.

Ezra turns me around so I’m facing the shelf. His hand skims down my back before squeezing my ass. “Bend over, Cora.”

I’m not used to him being so commanding, but I kind of like it. So I obey, even though I know I’m exposing myself by doing so. When he traces a finger down the center of my panties, I whimper.

“Grab onto the bookshelf.”

I do, moaning when he kneels and pulls my underwear down my legs. Then I lean into the bookcase as I step out of them.

“Spread your legs, Moonflower.” Ezra runs his hands up my thighs, caressing my stretch marks before kissing them.

I don’t dare disobey. Not when I’m so close to getting everything I’ve ever wanted.

I can feel Ezra’s gaze on me—feel his breath against my skin. It’s almost like a form of torture—having his mouth so close but not on me. I want to push myself into his face, but I don’t. We’ve been pining after each other for years. If he needs a minute, just like Wilder did, I can give it to him.

“Fuck,” I hear Ezra whisper. Then his tongue parts me, and he groans, so deeply and wantonly I’m almost surprised.

But it’s not a surprise, not really. Because I feel the same way.

Ezra’s tongue finds my clit, flicking it gently, then circling it. As I grip the bookshelf harder, I realize my mouth won’t taste like him, but his mouth will taste like me. And oh my god, why do I love that so much?

I want to kiss him when he’s done.

Gripping my ass cheeks, Ezra plunges his tongue into me. I’m not sure a man has ever eaten me out with so much enthusiasm. It’s like he’s trying to get drunk off of me, like he needs more, more, more.

When he sucks my clit into his mouth, I yelp.

“Oh my god. Ohmygod, Ezra.”

He replies with a low hum, too focused to stop.

Something warm and wet drips onto my thigh, and for a moment I wonder if I’m too turned on. If it’s silly, how badly I’ve wanted them for most of our friendship. But then Ezra finally pulls away, just for a second.

“I fell asleep to the thought of doing this to you for years, Moonflower.”

He dives back in, wrenching a half-sob, half-cry from somewhere deep inside of me. His words soothe my anxious thoughts, pushing them out of my head and bringing me back to him.

After a minute, Ezra slips a single finger into me. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough, and I can’t help but push back into him. He chuckles as he hits one of my sensitive spots, and all of a sudden it’s definitely, one hundred percent not enough.

“Ezra,” I groan. “Please.”

He stands, and I hear the sound of him undoing his belt. “I can’t wait any longer.”

The next thing I know, he’s slamming into me. He doesn’t give me a chance to adjust, but I’ve been so turned on for so long I don’t need to.

“Christ,” he wheezes.

I whimper as he thrusts into me repeatedly. The feeling of being filled to the brim, of him hitting all the right spots, makes it ridiculously hard to keep standing. But I manage, pushing back every time he thrusts forward, taking him deeper.