Pretty Little Savage (Sick Boys #1) - Lucy Smoke Page 0,125
were you," he warns.
My head arches up and I see a flash of silver. A pocket knife. My heart starts pounding faster, harder, echoing in my ears. My breath shudders out as my chest expands. Dean's fingers hook into one side of my thong and he cuts it away before doing the same to the other and then he takes the bottom of my dress and glances up, those dark eyes of his meeting mine as he begins to slice upward. The back of the metal blade presses against my skin, making my heartbeat leap as he cuts a perfect path up past the swell of my breasts until the fabric is laying open, revealing everything that my bra doesn't cover. That, too, though, is no match for him and soon I'm laying bare and naked beneath Dean Carter.
His eyes never leave mine as he presses the back of the weapon against his jaw and closes it with one hand and drops it next to my head. "You and I both know there's no way I'm letting you out of this room until I've had you in every position I've imagined you in since I met you," he says, dipping down and licking the dried sweat from my throat.
I clench my whole body as I feel the ball of his tongue piercing against my skin. My eyes close once more and I have to resist moaning at the feel of his fingers as they make their way back down to the place between my thighs. One stretches into my opening, pressing inside and curving up in a come here movement. Dean's lips move from the tip of one breast to the next as his stubble scrapes my flesh raw.
I can't catch my breath. I'm in sensory overload. The feel of his fingers—first the one and then two and then three pushing into my core. The sound of my pussy growing wetter and wetter as he gets me off. The loudness of my own moans as I stop resisting them and let them out, meeting his growling satisfaction as he bites down on one nipple, sending me straight up and over the edge into a fiery fast orgasm.
Panting, I tighten down on his hand as Dean withdraws his fingers and lifts them up for me to see. He grins, and I have to admit, wickedness is a good look for him. He presses his hand to my mouth, stroking my lips with my own wetness. I don't even have to be told. I lick the cream from his fingers, staring straight into his eyes as I do, daring him to help me. He doesn't disappoint. Dean leans forward and licks the opposite side of his own hand; the only thing keeping our mouths from fusing together.
As if a chain has been cut and he's unleashed, Dean pulls back and rips his shirt over his head, tossing it away. He helps me remove the scraps of the shredded dress and throws it as well. Dean’s hands fall to his waist and I bite my lip, watching as he unbuttons the top of his jeans and then lowers the zipper. The base of his cock makes an appearance, and when he shucks his pants and boxers the rest of the way off, stepping out of them before coming down over me, I grin.
"Nice to see I didn't imagine that piercing," I say.
Dean arches a brow and then reaches down, cupping himself and guiding the head of his cock to my entrance. He rubs that piercing against my clit, ever the tormentor. He pauses. "Birth control?" he asks, eyes shooting to mine.
I laugh. "Dean, I've been on birth control since I was twelve. You're good." I arch a brow. "Unless you have something to tell me."
"I've been checked," he assures me, resuming his torture. The metal of his piercing feels warmer than I expect it and I imagine exactly where it will soon be—in my pussy, scraping my G-spot. "Have to get regular physicals with the team."
"Right," I say absently, nodding. Football. I forgot, he's a player. It occurs to me that I've never actually been to a game, but I guess football doesn't happen in the winter and spring. My thoughts are completely erased a moment later when he lowers his knees and then brings the head of his cock to my opening and presses inside and fucking hell, he's thicker than his fingers. Way thicker. Deliciously so.