Sin With Me

48

I know a “yes” when I hear one.

I flip her to her back, straddle her, drag the T-shirt over her head and up her arms, and tie it in a knot around her wrists.

Blinking and breathless, she stares up at me. Her cheeks are pink, her lips are parted, her hair is damp and wild all over the pillow.

She’s the single most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

“Did you just handcuff me with your shirt?”

Breathing hard, I answer, “f**k yes I did. Can you come just from having your n*****s sucked?”

She whispers, “I— I don’t know. I’ve never tried it.”

My grin is savage. “Until now. And for the record, this isn’t s*x. This is just foreplay.”

I lower my head and begin the experiment.

GRACE

With every pull of Brody’s lips on my n*****s, a wave of hot, pure pleasure pulses between my legs. I writhe and moan beneath him, desperate for more.

“God, the sounds she makes,” he mutters to himself, before diving back in for another mouthful of flesh.

He’s straddling me, his legs on either side of my hips, so I have nothing to rub against, nothing but the pressure of my thighs pressed together to answer the growing ache between my legs. It’s not enough. I need more.

I need him.

“Take out your c**k,” I whisper breathlessly.

He glances up at me, his cheeks flushed, fire in his eyes. His big hands cup both my breasts. His skin is golden against my paleness. His lips are wet around one hard n****e.

He sucks it so strongly his cheeks hollow. I arch and moan again. The sound is broken. “Please, just let me see it.”

“I’m not gonna f**k you, Grace.”

Why does hearing him say those words in that gruff, almost angry tone drive me right to the edge of sanity?

“I need to see it. I need to see how hard you are for me,” I pant, rocking my hips like the wanton little trollop he teasingly called me. Against his sweats, his c**k bobs, and I whimper.

He moves to my other n****e. Looking up at me, he slowly circles his tongue around it, and then takes it between his teeth.

When he gently bites down, my lids slide shut. I groan, arching into his mouth.

“Tell me how wet your p***y is,” he demands, squeezing my breasts.

“Soaking. I’m soaked, I need you to touch me, I need your fingers, please Brody, I need your tongue—”

“You have my tongue, sweetheart,” he whispers. He bites me beneath my n****e in the full part of my breast. I gasp in pleasure. Then he licks the sting away, and I start to plead with him again.

“Between my legs. If you won’t give me your c**k, I need your tongue between my legs oh God please—” I break off with a cry as he pinches both my n*****s. Heat pulses in my core.

“You want me to lick your p***y, Grace? You need my tongue on your sweet little c**t?”

When I open my eyes, there’s a different Brody on top of me, staring down with startling intensity at my face. This isn’t the boyish Brody, the adorable surfer with the cocky swagger and the even cockier grin.

This is Brody the man, with a wolf’s hungry eyes and dangerous growl, ready to pounce and tear me to shreds.

My voice comes out small. “Yes. Please.”

That low, animal growl rumbles through his chest.

Goose bumps erupt all over my body.

He watches me for a moment, his eyes glittering, his chest rapidly rising and falling with his breath. Finally he makes a decision on whatever argument is going on inside his head. He commands, “Don’t move.”

He sits up, crosses to the door, closes and locks it, and then turns back to me. He pulls his shirt off over his head and drops it to the floor, so he’s standing there bare chested and barefoot, wearing only the sweats with the big pole tenting the front, staring at me with wild eyes and a hard jaw, his pulse throbbing hard in his neck.

His gaze on mine, he crosses back to the bed and slowly crawls up the mattress.

My heart beats so frantically I can’t catch my breath.

When his head is level with my stomach, he stops. His hands are planted on either side of my hips, his arms braced so all the muscles bulge. He moistens his lips. He leans his weight onto one hand, and with the other brushes his thumb in the damp seam between my legs.

When I make a soft cry he shushes me. I bite my lip.

Every part of me is trembling. My n*****s and p***y are aching. I’ve never felt such profound physical need.

Watching my face, Brody slowly strokes his thumb up and down, rubbing my p***y through the fabric that covers it. The pressure is light—too light. I flex my hips up, wanting more.

“Move again and I’ll stop,” he warns, in this dark, dominant voice that gives me another rash of goose bumps.

I fall so still I might as well be playing dead. If I could somehow stop breathing, I would.

Still lightly stroking me, he lowers his head and presses a gentle kiss to my belly. His lips part, he traces his tongue around my belly button, and then dips it in.

The barest moan breaks from my lips.