Hangovers and Holidays - Heather Long Page 0,90

earlobe, even as I bit my lip to keep from moaning. There was absolutely no patience in Archie as he massaged my clit in short, swift strokes, circling it with two fingers, until he hit just the right pressure and I shattered.

My breath came in sharp, explosive little pants, and Archie twisted, turning my head so his mouth could clamp down on mine. It barely smothered my cry, but I was trying. It was almost impossible to contain my writhing though as he slid his fingers away and let me turn. He rolled us away from Ian with a kind of practiced ease, and then I was sprawling over Archie as he kissed me like he could consume me.

Not that I wasn’t lapping up every stroke of his tongue. The stiffness of his erection pressed against me as I rolled my hips and ground against him. Reaching between us, I began to stroke him through his shorts and his teeth scraped over my lower lip before he sucked on my tongue.

Still writhing from the aftershocks of my first orgasm, I sighed at the silken heat of his dick in my hand. He let out a hissed breath, fisting my hair to keep me in place, even though I had zero intention of moving. The fabric of my shirt against my nipples just added another layer of sensation to the rasp of his stubble on my cheeks, the bite of his teeth, the stroke of his tongue.

When he hooked two fingers of his free hand to tug my panties to the side, I needed no further encouragement. Between us, I maneuvered and then rubbed his cock against me, slicking his head, and I lifted my head, breaking his kiss. I was braced on my left arm, and he moved both of his hands to my hips. Whether I rose up or he lifted me didn’t matter, but I positioned him and then sank down as he thrust upward with one push.

Back arching, I tilted my head and bit my lip. The force of his gaze on mine was almost too much as he filled me. The heat of the connection was so much more intense. He didn’t give me long to adjust to the sensation, not that I wanted it before he lifted me and began to thrust. I rolled my hips on instinct, the faintest of rotations that had him gasp out a harsh exhale, and my gaze snapped down to meet his.

His flushed cheeks and dark eyes promised me he was every bit as affected as I was. The angle of his thrusts stroked against the spot that always made me see stars, and I flexed around him. When he moved his hands under my shirt to massage my breasts, we ground together until moans spilled from my throat with increasing frequency.

The slap of our flesh coming together pushed me, as did his soft grunts. When he reared up, hips slamming into mine, I forgot all about being quiet, and then his mouth was on mine again. One light tug had us pulling apart as he ripped my shirt up and off, and then he kissed down my throat until he reached my breasts. His mouth closed over one nipple.

The tension circling tighter and tighter within me fractured, and I split apart. I dug my nails into his shoulders, desperate to hold on, and then his mouth swooped back up to take mine as a scream ripped out of me. I don’t know if it was my clenching around him or he had just been that close, but he came in a rush, and the flood of heat bloomed inside of me, then we collapsed together in a twitching, shaking mess.

Or maybe that was just me.

Wrecked.

I was wrecked and so intimately aware of where he still rested inside of me, my inner walls fluttering around him. A soft groan to my right pulled my head up, and I met Ian’s heated stare where he watched us, his blue eyes so bright against the darkness of his blown pupils. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, and I stared at him fixedly until a faint motion dragged my gaze downward.

He had his own dick in his hand, palming it from base to tip and back down. The faintest smear of dampness marked his fat tip, and it was my turn to lick my lips. Archie still shuddered below me, and I flicked a look up to find Ian still

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