The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,30
I squirm, trying to pull back because it feels too good, but he secures me against his mouth. I dig my fingernails into the wood, undulating over him. When he reaches around to play with my clit, I arch backward, overwhelmed by the assault. “Wait,” I cry.
He slaps my ass and goes at me harder. My eyes cross. The words I try to form are barely squeaks. I want him inside me when I come, but he’s so relentless, I’m already on the verge. I do my best to distract myself to stave off my orgasm.
New York Fashion Week is only five months away. That’s twenty—I squeak—weeks!
Pantone announced two colors of the year for the first time—Rose Quartz and Serenity.
I hate the word quartz, and the word quirky—apparently, I’m not a fan of “Q”.
But I like quirky things.
Man Repeller’s Instagram feed is quirky, and I adore Leandra Medine . . .
Not as much as I adore Andrew’s tongue shoved up my—
My thighs shake so hard, if I weren’t holding myself up by the headboard, I’d drop down and suffocate him. This isn’t working. “Stop, wait,” I plead. “Don’t make me come.”
“Don’t make you come?” he asks, breathing hotly against my swollen lips.
“Not yet.”
Andrew slows, loosening his grip. If he was fucking me with his mouth before, now he makes love to my pussy. When he moans, I feel it everywhere. It’s not helping. Gentle or rough, he knows how to work me.
I pull his hands away from my hips and climb off his face toward the nightstand to get the condom.
Andrew wipes his mouth with his shoulder, a smile spreading over his face. I hold out the condom, but he shakes his head. “Your move, boss.”
I smirk at him and tear the foil. His cock is practically vertical, waiting for me. I sit back on my calves and watch his face as I stroke him once. He thrusts his hips, a preview of what’s to come. I let my eyes wander, appreciating his long, firm, artful body, the abs that flex as he lifts his head to look at me.
“Amelia.” We make eye contact. “I’m trying to be patient,” he says, “but I’ve been hard since the bath. I already know how good you feel, and it’s killing me.”
I’m still throbbing from my core, but teasing him is making me even hotter. I glance down just long enough to place the condom over his tip, and then back to him so I can watch his expression as I roll it on.
His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath. “Let me fuck you.”
“You’ve been so patient,” I say, throwing a knee over him. I lean forward onto my hands, trapping him against the mattress. “That’s a quality I value in my employees.”
He lifts his head to kiss me, but I pull away. His hand is in my hair in a split second, bringing me back down.
I tsk. “Are you challenging my authority?”
He removes his hand, but his frustration is clear in the way he grits his jaw. I see the agony in his eyes. Slowly, I bring my mouth to his and touch our lips together. He stays still. “Good,” I whisper against him, reaching between us. I position him against my opening. “Now kiss me.”
He rakes his hands through my hair, groaning into my mouth with a bruising kiss. I lower myself onto him and slide up and down a couple times, adjusting to his size.
He fists his hands against my scalp. “Can I fuck you yet?”
“No.”
“How about now?”
“Let me do it.” I sink down until I’m seated. We breathe into each other’s mouths, but as he goes to kiss me again, I push off his chest, straighten up, and swivel my hips over him.
“Christ, Amelia,” he says, grabbing my waist. I ride him, forward, backward, around in circles. I find my rhythm, drawing up quick and coming down hard.
Andrew pinches his eyebrows together, gasping open-mouthed, as if he’s in pain. He thrusts his hips up a little, a small act of insubordination, but it feels too good for me to scold him. I throw my head back when he takes my breasts in both hands, kneading them, tugging on my nipples until I squeal.
“Fuck me,” I say.
He slams into me, and all at once, even though I’m still on top, I’m no longer riding him. He’s in control again, holding me in place by my middle as he fucks me.