Serves Me Wright (Wright #9) - K.A. Linde Page 0,27
my face in his hands as if I were as precious as diamonds and as fragile as glass. My eyes fluttered when he pulled back to stare down at me.
“Do you want this?”
“You?”
He nodded, his thumbs drawing circles along my jaw. “Tell me you want me.”
I swallowed and bit my lip. “I want you.”
His gaze remained on mine. A flush suffused my skin at the direct contact. “Say it again.”
I laughed, managed to be embarrassed, even while drunk. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“With you? Never.”
“And what do you want?” I asked with a huff.
His smile was practically feline. “Shall I show you?”
He didn’t wait for my reply, just dropped his mouth onto mine. Slow and languid, nipping at the bottom lip and sending shivers down my spine. I clung to him. My fingers moving up into the dark strands of his hair. I’d wondered how the silky strands felt, and here I was, discovering it for myself.
Julian stepped backward, and I tripped, nearly landing in a pile on the floor.
He laughed softly. “You’re drunk.”
“So are you,” I muttered as he helped me back up.
“Tipsy,” he corrected.
He swept an arm under my knees and effortlessly lifted me into the air. I threw my arms around him. He chuckled as he carried me the short distance to our small double bed and laid me out across it. I let my sandals slip off the side of the bed. Brazenly, I left the skirt of my dress hitched up high on my thighs.
His gaze traveled across the milky skin. I could see a spot of indecision on his face, and then I steeled myself and reached for him. I took his hand in mine and drew him down onto the bed next to me. That was apparently all the invitation he needed before his mouth covered mine again. And God willing, he still tasted like a Dreamsicle. I’d never taste one again and not think about him.
Alcohol battered against my anxiety, releasing its hold on me. It was only me and Julian in the room. I’d wanted this with him from day one. I didn’t plan to refuse whatever he was offering. Whatever the outcome.
His hands were more hesitant than they’d been at the bar, staying firmly planted on my sides as he kissed me. But I wanted more. My core was pulsing in tempo with our kisses.
“I thought you said everything,” I whispered.
His eyes flared wide at my words. “And I meant it. Show me what you want.”
The alcohol silenced my inner panic. In a bold gesture, I pushed his hand lower, lower, lower, over my hip and across the top of my thighs until he was precisely where I wanted him.
Shock mingled with desire in his irises as his hand settled between my legs. “Is that so?”
His fingers skimmed the hem of my dress, slipping under the material and reaching the cotton panties. He dragged one finger down the center of the fabric. I jolted in shock as the contact sent sparks through me.
“There,” I whispered.
His head dipped to my ear. “You want me to touch your pussy?”
I groaned at the filthy words as he leisurely rolled a finger around my clit. I was already wet from just this, soaking through the material. Surely, he could feel it. I was too heated to care.
“Please.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat that shot straight between my legs. He slid a finger under the fabric, finally—finally—touching me. He slicked a finger through my wetness and dragged it up to my clit.
“Oh fuck, Jen,” he growled.
His pelvis ground against my hip, and I could feel the length of him through his pants.
My head fell back onto the pillow as he continued to bring me to new heights. Then the pressure on my hip disappeared, and suddenly, his body was positioned between my legs. He released my clit, slipping the panties over my curvy hips and tossing them to the floor.
Before I could think what would happen next, he buried his face between my legs. I stifled a cry as his tongue flicked against my clit. I jerked and squirmed under the contact, but he forced my hips back down on the bed with his forearm. My hands flew over my head in shock as my orgasm hit me full blast. Still, he licked me until he drew out every ounce of my climax.
He released me when I was left panting on the bed. My eyes remained firmly closed, and I tried to process