The Rebound - Stefanie London Page 0,34

piece of meat in your fantasies?”

“A sexy piece of meat?” she offers. I can’t see a damn thing, but I’d bet my last ten bucks she’s blushing her butt off and that it’s cute as hell.

“Good enough.”

I take her clit between my lips and suck, at the same time I push my finger inside her, catching the first fluttering spasm of her muscles. I’m ruthless. Unforgiving. I push her straight to the brink without giving her a second to catch her breath. She’s starving? I’m going to give her a feast.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, body tensing and arching. There’s a sharp pain at my scalp as her nails drag, but the sounds coming out of her mouth make me forget she might be about to draw blood.

I flick my tongue, alternating between sucking and licking, fucking her with my finger until she’s quaking. The door rattles as she trembles, but we’re locked inside. Safe. Secure. Alone. For some reason, the darkness and the door make it easier to push the real world out of my mind—to push away the reality of what it means for us to be together.

“Sebastian,” she gasps, her breath hitching, “I’m going to... I’m going to...”

I don’t break away. I don’t breathe. I want to feel her orgasming on my tongue more than I need the air in my lungs and the brain cells in my head. Feeling Presley come undone is like drinking the world’s sweetest, most delicious wine.

Nothing else will ever be as good.

“Oh God, I’m here.” She shakes, panting and letting out soft, breathy moans as release ripples through her.

When the shaking stops, I lay my cheek against her thigh and give her a moment to come back down to earth. In that quiet moment, I heard the pounding of my heart and the slowing in-out whoosh of her breath above me. I smell the scent of her sex in the air. I feel the way she twirls her fingers through my hair, which seems far more intimate than the oral pleasure I gave her a moment ago. The action is gentle, affectionate.

It hooks me.

“You’re pretty good at that,” she says. “Much better than my vibrator.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I get to my feet and pull her to me, burying my face in her hair and sucking in the sweet fragrance of her shampoo. “Although I like the image of you getting yourself off. Nothing sexier than a woman who knows how to take care of business.”

“Take care of business?” She laughs. “I like that. Now can I take care of your business?”

Her hand snakes down between us and my cock is still out of my pants, standing proud and begging for her smooth, greedy hands. Actually, it’s begging for the hot depths of her pussy, but I’m happy to take a slight detour first.

“You feel big.” Her voice is a little deeper than before, when we were trading war stories. It’s scratchier, huskier. Arousal sounds good on her. “I’m not just saying that because I know guys like to hear it, either.”

“The dirty talk works better without the extra explanation,” I tease. I love having her pinned against the door, body wedged between me and something solid—it stirs some caveman part of me, like I’m shielding her. Keeping her safe and warm.

“I use a lot of words,” she says. “It’s a nervous habit.”

“You’re nervous?” I still. “If you want to stop...”

“I don’t.” She squeezes me as if punctuating her sentence. “But I’ve never... Well, one-night stands are not my modus operandi, okay? This is unchartered territory for me.”

“Yeah, me, too,” I admit. I wouldn’t call myself a relationship guy, because I have my golden rule—never let a woman derail me. But I don’t exactly bang my way through life, either.

Mostly I keep things short and sweet—low key, no strings. No expectations. I date women who are looking for fun and aren’t ready to settle down; that way, no one gets hurt. Put it this way: Presley isn’t my usual type.

Maybe that’s why I feel so startled by her, so startled by how much I want her.

“I want this to be good,” she says. “For both of us.”

“You’ve got a big tick from me.” I skim my hand along her arm, feeling for the curve of her breast. When I fill my palm with the firm, plump shape—my thumb skating back and forth so her nipple beads beneath her dress—she lets out a soft, releasing breath. “Even if we stopped