Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,134
to savor, to cherish. “Yes, I compare every single one. And no one stacks up. Not even close. Dammit, Jamie. Can we just…” She pushes me back, and drags my shirt up with one hand. Her left is basically useless, but she works with the right and tugs it up until it catches on my jaw. “Help me get this off.”
She sits back for a moment after I toss my shirt away, and studies my chest, my ink, the muscle mass I’ve busted my ass to build over the years. “It’s not like you were a child when I last saw you, but damn, I was surprised when I saw you on TV a few weeks back. Is this for me?” She moves forward and presses her lips to the ink that specifically refers to her.
In reality, it’s all for her, but here, right over my heart, it’s much less subtle.
“I hate that I fell in love when I was seventeen years old,” she complains. “I hate that you give me no choice.”
“Yeah, well…” I push her back to her side of the couch, and unsnap her jeans before she even gets the hair out of her eyes. “I suppose I could say the same about you. I’m mad that my heart is stuck on you. I’m mad that we seem so fucking doomed.”
I sit back, tear the shorts and panties from her legs, and before she has a chance to move or react, I lay on my belly and bury my face in her pussy.
“Oh god!” Her fingers go to my hair, her nails dig into my scalp, and her legs squeeze me tight. They refuse to let me free. “Jamie… Oh god. Do that thing with your—Yesssss.”
I slide my tongue inside her pussy, in and out; I lap her up and feast the way I’ve wished I could for the last four years. Sliding a finger in, I hook it back, and groan when she seizes under my touch. She squeezes my finger, and gushes into my hand, and I swear, if I looked, I’d find blood under her fingernails from my scalp. She’s a prisoner to me, completely under my control, so I push harder, grind my cock against the couch when it feels like that’s all I’ll need for completion, and when her body tightens, stretches, vibrates with a need to come, I pull away and smile when she explodes… with abuse.
“What the fuck?” she roars. “What the actual kind of bullshit torture is th—”
But then her eyes snap to my crotch when I push my pants down.
I free my cock, and squeeze it tight until we both groan, then I slide my hand down… up… I throw my head back, and moan at the pleasure that zings through my gut. I reach down with my sore arm, and cup my balls, but after only three pumps, Quinn growls in the back of her throat.
“Nope. Not on your own.” She crawls onto my lap, slaps my hands away, and with deft movements, she lines us up and drops down onto my cock with a cry. “God!”
“Yes,” I hiss and squeeze my eyes shut. “You feel so fucking good.” Reaching around, I wrap my arm around her hips and, taking her weight, I help her lift up to the very tip of my dick, then I slam her back down again until my orgasm threatens to embarrass me. “Fuck!”
“Jamie.” She uses her own strength, her thighs, her muscles, and glides back up to the tip of my dick, then she drops down and swallows me up until my lungs refuse to work. “I love you,” she whimpers and rides out her pleasure. “I know I’m an ass, and I know I’m more trouble than I’m worth, I know we’re not suited, and I know you deserve better, but—Oh god!” She drops back down again and swallows me up. “Fuck, but I love you.”
“I love you too.” I drag her face down, and slam my lips to hers until I swallow her cries. “I know shit is messy, but I love you so fuckin’ much.”
I bite her lip, her chin – and draw a stifled giggle from her when she realizes I finally got to bite that damn dimple. I nibble along her jaw, and take bites every single time she glides back to the base of my cock. I absorb every sensation that ricochets through my body, but I focus on her, on her tight pussy, on