Scorched (Frigid 2) - Page 32

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Before she could respond, I claimed her mouth once more, harder and rougher than before, and there was no mistaking that I was claiming her. Our lips mashed together, teeth clinked. I would’ve worried if it weren’t for the way her hand curved around my neck, pulling me down harder.

My pulse pounded throughout me as I slid my hand away from her chin, down the delicate arch of her throat and between her breasts. My hand kept going until I reached the waistband of her jeans. I flicked the button free. Then I reached up, dragging the strap of her bra down on one arm and then the other. As my tongue swirled along hers, I grabbed the center of her bra and yanked it down. She made this lovely little sound that I fucking ate right up.

I was on fire as I lifted my head, breaking the kiss. My gaze dropped. Fuck. Every possible time I’d imagined what her breasts looked like bare did not even compare to the real thing. Her breasts were heavy and perfect, the swells rosy and the tips hard. I ran my thumb over her nipple, wanting to shout when her back arched and a soft whimper parted her lips.

“You’re beautiful, so fucking beautiful,” I told her as I flicked that tight little nub, my body tightening as she made that sound again. I lowered my mouth, circling the peak with my tongue, wanting to pummel my chest with my fists when she cried out and clenched the back of my neck, holding me to her breasts.

I suckled her deep and hard, reveling in all the delighted moans and gasps coming from her. I was in heaven as I moved my mouth to her other breast and felt the weight of the other in my hand, but I wanted to use my fingers for so much more.

Reaching up, I wrapped my hand around her wrist and brought her hand down, to her breast. I watched her eyes darken as I closed her fingers over it.

“Tanner,” she whispered, her cheeks heightened with color.

I wet my lips. “Look at you.” I closed my hand over hers, using her hand to knead her own breast. “I will never forget the way you look right now.”

She was breathing heavily as I moved her fingers, using them to toy with the tip. “What…what are you doing?” she asked.

“Living out a fantasy.” I watched the tip of her breast harden further and then I bent my head, flicking my tongue over it. “Don’t stop doing this. Promise.”

“I…”

My gaze flipped to hers. “Promise me.”

Her body trembled. “Promise.”

I brought my mouth back to hers, rumbling with approval when she kept her hand on her breast. Her touch was hesitant at first, but she didn’t stop as I slid my hand down her soft belly and then under the band of her jeans. It was nothing to slip under her panties, and when I felt the first brush of wetness gathering between her thighs, I almost fucking lost it.

“Don’t stop touching yourself,” I ordered a second before I slipped a finger through her softness. “God damn, don’t stop.”

Her breathing hitched. “I won’t if…if you don’t.”

“Nothing in this world could make me stop.”

And that was the damn truth. Nothing. Not a damn thing. I shifted my hand so my palm pressed down on that area that I knew drove her crazy. I feasted on her lips and tongue like a man starved, and I fucked her with my fingers. She was so tight and wet and perfect, there was a good chance I was going to spill without even getting my pants off.

I don’t even think I’d care if I did.

When I eased another finger into her, the movements at her breast picked up, and I lifted up, looking down. “Holy fuck,” I grunted. This was a dream. Had to be.

My fingers pumped in and out of her, and I felt her start to shake, and I wanted to taste her cry when she came. I moved my mouth over hers as her hips rose, matching the thrust of my fingers. The rise and fall became frenzied as she tightened around my fingers. The first spasm I felt around my fingers had me grinding against her thigh. Her hips were coming clear off the bed and her body began to shake. I shoved a leg between hers, my hips riding her, mimicking her movements.

I was lost in her.

Andrea’s back arched and her hips stilled when she came, her inner muscles clenching my fingers. I caught her cries with my tongue, but I felt them in every cell. I nursed her down, slowing my fingers as she fell back to the bed, her hand falling away from her breast, lying limply on the bed beside her thigh.

Easing my fingers out of her, I kissed her gently. Fuck—tenderly. Yeah, this was a tender kiss. A slow sweep of my lips against hers despite the fact my blood was boiling and I was so hard it actually hurt. But as I rose and stared down at her flushed face, I soaked in her parted lips and those thick lashes that fanned her cheeks. I knew in that moment that I could never get enough of her. I knew, that no matter how crazy it sounded, there was no girl like her.

And as barbaric as it sounded, it was still true. Andrea was mine.

Andrea

I came back to my senses slowly, my muscles weak and my skin buzzing. The peace, the calmness that invaded every cell was better than any drink or pharmaceutical could ever provide.

Tanner kissed the corner of my mouth and then he trailed a stream of tiny, hot kisses down my throat, across my shoulder. If I wasn’t careful, I could get addicted to this.

Blinking my eyes open, I looked down at me—at us—and lost whatever air was in my lungs. Beyond him, I could see the tip of one of my breasts, the slope of my belly, and my eyes then tracked his arm—his hand. He was now just sliding it out from between my legs. I swallowed hard. Good Lord, the image of us was branded forever in my mind.


Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout Frigid Romance
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