Taming Lily (The Fowler Sisters 3) - Page 50

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“Nope.” His smile grows. “I’m going to show you. And you’re going to both love it and hate it.”

Wariness fills me, along with fear and excitement. “O-okay.”

“Now lean back again.” I start to but he gathers me, his hands on my ass, lifting me up so my pussy is directly in front of his mouth. “Watch this, baby girl,” he murmurs just before he licks me.

A little scream escapes and he lifts his head away, glaring at me. “Quiet,” he whispers, and I clamp my lips shut, closing my eyes when he licks me again. And stops.

“I said watch me,” he commands, and my eyes fly open, excited and scared to see what he does next.

What he does is drive me out of my mind with pleasure. Just as I’m about to come he pauses, pulls away, changes the motion, rains kisses on my inner thighs. He toys with my clit with just the tip of his tongue, nudging it, flicking it, drawing it between his lips for one long, good suck, and then he’s moving on. Kissing my belly, stroking my thighs.

Driving me fucking crazy.

“A bad girl like you doesn’t deserve to come,” he whispers against my pussy after about ten minutes of exquisite torture. “Greedy girls have to learn patience.”

“What …” I swallow hard, my throat dry, my pussy anything but. Max’s lips glisten and just the sight of that alone turns me on. I’m so worked up I’m afraid he’ll breathe on my clit and I’ll come. “What if I can’t stop myself from coming?”

His gaze glitters like perfect sapphires. “Then you’ll be in even more trouble.”

He means it. He’ll do something to me that I can’t even fathom. And this torture he’s putting me through now is beyond ridiculous. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Like I’m observing the both of us as he grips my ass with his large, flexing hands, my pussy an offering for him to feast on. His tongue touches every part of me, his lips, his teeth. I feel mindless, out of control, scared that I’ll come and he’ll hate me for it.

Excited that I’ll come and he’ll do something deliciously awful to me for disobeying him.

“You need to learn how to take orders, princess. Not give them,” he murmurs against my thigh as he kisses me there yet again. “Learn how to restrain yourself and do as I say.”

But it’s so hard. So incredibly hard. I’m dying to grab hold of his hair and tug him close, tell him exactly where to lick and suck. I’ve always taken charge with the other men in my life. It was all fun and games but ultimately, I was in control. They did what I said and I loved it.

Not this man. He won’t do anything that I say. He’s in command and I …

I love it. Hate it. Want more of it.

“You want to come?” he asks, sucking my clit between his lips before he lets it go.

I nod, not saying a word. Scared he’ll deny me if I say or do the wrong thing.

“I bet you’re going to convulse and cry out my name,” he says, his voice low. Hypnotic. He nuzzles my pussy with his nose, breathing deep, dropping sweet little kisses all over my flesh and making me shiver. “Maybe I should stick my fingers inside you so I can feel it when I finally let you come.”

God, whatever he needs or wants to do, I’d let him. Gladly.

“Not going to protest, princess? Did I finally break you?” I squint at him, batting away the anger that wants to surge, and he sees it. I can tell just by the change in his expression. But why do those words make me mad? Is it the way he said it? Or is it the word break? Everyone seems to want to break me, have a piece of me. I’m sick of it.

Can’t he just want me for me?

“You don’t want me to break you, do you?” he asks, shaking his head. “Well, too damn bad. By the time I’m through with you, you’ll be an obedient little girl, just how I like it.”

I can’t stand the thought of him being with any other women, which is crazy. Why do I care? I’ve been with plenty of men—not something I’m proud of, but I can’t deny it since pretty much every guy I’ve been with is documented via social media. But you don’t hear me talk about them. Don’t hear me bragging about my many conquests.

God, I’m jealous. A completely foreign emotion I rarely feel, at least when it comes to men.

The breeze blows over me, cooling my heated flesh, and I close my eyes, popping them back open when Max’s hands squeeze my butt. “I bought more condoms,” he says.

I breathe out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

He leans in close as he pulls me even closer, until I’m tumbling back into his lap and his face is in mine. “You’re not mad at me, are you,” he murmurs just before he claims my mouth.

I open wide for him, our tongues thrusting, the unmistakable musky taste of my pussy making me even hotter. He has no shame, this man, and neither do I. He’s rough and a little mean and a lot sexy and I can’t get enough. There’s a connection between us I don’t want to fight. I like him. I want to spend more time with him, learn more about him.

The idea scares me.

His hands clamp around my waist and pull me down so I’m grinding my naked pussy on his clothed erection. He’s huge and hot, thick and long, and I rub against him shamelessly, whimpering into his mouth, increasing my pace.

“You getting off, baby?”

No need to answer because the orgasm hits me at full blast right at that very moment. I cry out, circling my arms around his neck as I cling to him, my hips working against his cock, loving the friction his swim trunks give me as I come all over him.


Tags: Monica Murphy The Fowler Sisters Romance
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