The Jezebel - Dylan Allen Page 0,74

her neck to pull away from me. I slide my fingers into the damp tangle of hair at her nape and hold her still.

I lean in and draw in a lungful sea salt and citrus and press my lips to her ear. “I don’t even remember their names. I only ever see you.”

“Stone,” my name leaves her lips on a gust of warm breath, and my body responds to the plea in it, but I need to hear her say it. My fingers fist around her hair and I tilt her face up to mine.

“Tell me what you want, Goddess.” Her eyes glimmer like twin stars set into the beautiful moonlit face that I always find poetry in.

She slides her arms up my shoulders and lifts onto her toes so that her lips are scant inches from mine. “I want you to touch me. I want your hands on me. I want your mouth on me. I want your dick in me. I want to sleep in, swim, eat, and squeeze every last drop of joy and happy out of the time we have here. I want you. So badly. No one but you. Is that clear enough?”

I almost come on the spot.

No rush of adrenaline I’ve ever felt can compare to the sweet, dizzying thrill of finally catching my Venus.

“Perfectly.” I drop a kiss on her mouth and then step back so I can see her entire body.

I catch the hem of her tank top and drag it up slowly to reveal the velvet soft skin of her stomach, then the rounded underside of her breast. And up until I pull it over her head.

“You are spectacular.” I cup the warm weight of her full breasts and stroke her stiff nipples with the pads of my thumb.

Her breath hitches, but she stands perfectly still, letting me do what I will. And I intend to.

“Where shall I kiss you first?” I ask. My heart thuds in anticipation and my insides coil tight like a bow drawn and ready to fly while I wait for her to speak.

“My neck,” she says after a beat and arches her throat for me.

I drop my head and open my mouth on the spot where her neck meets her jaw and press my tongue against the pulse that races there.

Her citrus scent mingles with the moonlight and salt tinged air and she tastes like perfection. The slow march to seduction I planned takes its last breath. My restraint goes up in the blaze of heat. I lick, graze devour like the frenzied, insatiable, greedy beast she alone turns me into.

I dip my head, drop kisses down her throat, her chest, nibble the soft swell of her breasts finally pull that sweet, plump nipple into my hot mouth. Her back bows and she lets out a ragged little moan. Her hands delve into my hair and she bucks her hips.

I suck even harder and find her other breast with my free hand and pinch that nipple, hard.

She goes wild.

Her hands, her mouth, are fevered and frantic as they move over my face, my shoulders, my back. She’s scrambling against me, like I’m a tree she’s trying to climb.

Her arms twine around my neck and she moans, “Please kiss me,” in my ear.

Our lips crash together like meteors that were destined to collide. Her mouth is hot, and sweet. Her tongue - bold and hungry as it slides against mine.

I walk us toward the tent, kissing her like my life depends on it. I lose my footing and we fall. We land on the soft, gritty ground, that could be a cloud for all I feel it.

All of my senses have melded into one that only knows the fragrance, flavor, and feel of Regan.

We lay face to face, our breaths mingling, our eyes supernovas burning with lust and locked on each other.

I run the tips of my fingers over her face, tracing her cheekbones, her broad, full mouth, the pert slope of her nose, the sweeping wing of her brows -augmenting and updating those age-old memories with this new one. When my finger slides into her hair, she moans and closes her eyes.

I cradle her head and hold her in place while I pull my shorts down. I reach between us to push her panties aside and slide two fingers between her lips. She’s softer, hotter, readier than I could have imagined.

“Regan, dammit, you’re so wet,” I groan into her mouth and her thighs part and make

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