Hendrix (Raleigh Raptors #3) - Samantha Whiskey Page 0,8

toward her skin. My name had never sounded so good, so full of plea and pleasure.

But I still didn’t know hers.

I glimpsed creamy skin and a rose-colored, taut nipple just before I took her into my mouth, swirling my tongue over her tip before sucking the flesh between my teeth.

She cried out, the sound reverberating off the gallery walls as I sucked her softly and lashed my tongue over her again and again. Her hips rose as she rocked against me.

Her honest, uninhibited response took me from hard to throbbing and desperate. There were no coy games, no nervous laughter, or assessing, measured looks—she was as lost to me as I was to her, and damn if that didn’t take me further down the rabbit hole, wiping away any care of where we were.

Nothing mattered but the woman beneath me, her body shimmering in the soft light. She was the finest piece of art I’d ever seen in my life.

Her hips rocked again as color flushed her skin. I released her breast only to give the other equal attention as she writhed beneath me.

“Fuck, I want to taste every inch of you,” I said with one last lick over her nipple.

She moaned, her fingers tightening in my hair as her thighs tightened.

“I’m going to work you over so slowly you’ll be begging me to come,” I promised as my hands traced the indents of her waist, the flare of her hips.

“And if I’m ready to beg now?” she asked, gripping the sides of the cushion when I moved beyond her reach, straddling the bench.

“Tell me your name.” My hands gripped her thighs, and I grazed my thumbs over the frilled edge of her stockings. Maybe her name didn’t matter at this moment, but I’d need to find her again—I had to find her.

“Hendrix,” she begged, rocking her hips so my fingers slid under her skirt.

“That’s my name,” I teased, skimming under the straps of her garters.

“Please!”

A slow, wicked smile spread across my face as I lowered my lips to the strip of skin just above her stockings. Fuck, she even smelled sweet. I flipped her skirt up and nearly swallowed my tongue. Her thighs were toned, soft, and only a tiny piece of purple lace covered her pussy.

“Goddamn, you’re beautiful,” I muttered, taking in the entire view, from her pleading eyes to those kiss-swollen lips and hard-tipped breasts.

She only whimpered in reply.

“Tell me your name.” I kissed her inner thigh.

“Oh, God.”

“Still not it.” I sucked her tender skin in three hard pulls, leaving a mark, claiming that one piece of her for as many days as it took to fade.

“I need…I need…” Her breath stuttered as I skimmed my mouth over that purple lace, breathing deep, taking her scent into my lungs and letting it brand me.

“And I’ll give it to you all fucking night if you just tell me your name.” My self-control screamed, my entire body demanding to nudge that lace aside and slide my tongue inside her, but I managed to turn my lips to her other thigh and press a soft kiss over a tiny tattoo of a slightly misshapen star…as if it had been hand-drawn.

I’d seen it before.

Where?

A necklace flashed through my mind, the custom-made, gold charm winking in the sunlight, taunting me to look just a second longer at the breasts it lay just above—

One tattoo doesn’t make you a rebel. The memory crashed over me.

No. Fucking. Way.

“One tattoo doesn’t make you a rebel,” I repeated slowly as my thumb stroked over that little star, sending up a little prayer that it would smudge—that it would be a fake.

“What?” she asked, her voice breathless. Familiar.

My heart slammed wildly, my brain shouting at me to accept what my cock had ignored from the second she’d come up to me on the dance floor. “That’s what I said to you last year when I overheard you telling Teagan about that tat. One tattoo doesn’t make you a rebel.” I jolted upward and lifted her mask to the edge of her blonde wig. “Goddamn it, Savannah!”

She gasped.

I lurched off the bench, stumbling for balance.

Savannah. Fucking. Goodman.

My coach’s gorgeous, brilliant, very off-limits daughter. The woman who’d driven me mad for the last few years with her long legs, thick red hair, and sharp little tongue.

The tongue I’d had in my mouth a few minutes ago.

“Hendrix, wait!” She followed after me, her gorgeous tits bouncing slightly, her nipples still damp from my mouth.

I’d had my hands on Savannah. My

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