Page 155 of The Temporary Fiancée
As if he can’t resist the taste, he alternates between giving a few swirls of the candy can against my clit and then lifting it to his mouth and sucking on it, watching me the whole time. The sight of his lips wrapping around the candy, and the knowledge that he’s tasting both the sweet mint andme, almost makes me come right there.
“Tastes so good,” he murmurs. “You and peppermint are a good combination, baby.”
He lowers his head between my thighs and drags his tongue across my clit, and the shock of his wet mouth right after the candy makes me cry out. Then he’s back to the candy cane, alternating between the two again, his tongue and the smooth curve of the candy switching off in a rhythm that has me seeing stars.
“You must be getting close,” he breathes. “I can feel you shaking.”
“I’m—” I can’t form a coherent sentence. “God, Reed?—”
He presses the candy cane against my clit, his other hand sliding up to grip my hip, holding me still as he pushes me right to the edge. Pleasure peaks in a hot rush as my orgasm shatters through me. I cry out, my back arching off the couch, my bound hands fisting above my head. He works me through it, the candy cane still pressed against my clit.
When I finally come down from the high of it, I’m panting, my skin buzzing with aftershocks. Reed sets the candy cane aside and pushes up on his knees, undressing so quickly that his shirt almost gets stuck on his head. I would laugh if I weren’t so desperate to have his bare skin beneath my fingertips and feel him press inside me.
There’s nothing left of his patience now, and I know how he feels.
He grips me under both knees and lifts my ass off the couch, angling me up the way he wants me.
“How do you want it?” he asks gruffly.
“Hard. Please.”
His grip on me tightens. “That’s my fucking girl.”
He notches his cock at my entrance and then pushes in. The feel of his thick, long shaft stretching me out draws a breathy moan from me, my still-sensitive clit throbbing. He bottoms out in one long stroke, pausing for just a few breaths before he starts to move.
He fucks me hard, just like I wanted. Deep, fast strokes that make my breasts bounce with every thrust, my bound hands sliding back and forth against the cushion above my head, the lace tugging at my wrists. His grip on the backs of my knees keeps me at exactly the angle he wants, and every thrust hits something deep inside me.
“You look so good like this. Tied up for me, taking my cock so damn well.”
I can’t form words. I’m gasping, arching into every thrust, squirming in his grip as the sensations build exponentially.
“Going to come for me again, Liv?” he demands.
“Yes—fuck, yes?—”
A satisfied look fills his handsome features, and he keeps going. I still can’t always come without some attention paid to my clit, but it’s so sensitive from the first orgasm he gave me thatthe friction of him fucking me like this is making it throb. That incredible tightening sensation begins to gather low in my belly, signaling another orgasm building.
When it hits, it tears through me harder than the first, lighting up every nerve ending. Reed keeps pounding into me, letting out a deep groan as he watches me come apart beneath him.
I can tell he’s about to come too—and just as he does, he pulls out abruptly, grips himself in his fist and strokes hard, his face contorting. The hot splash of his cum hits my breasts and stomach, and he aims lower, spilling some over my pussy too. The feel of it sends me other the edge again, another climax emerging from the aftershocks of previous one.
Reed stays there for a long beat, panting, his hand still loosely gripping his cock, his gaze fixed on me. The way he’s staring at me right now is possessive in a way that makes butterflies go wild in my stomach.
Then he shakes his head as if pulling himself out of a daze and leans over me to gently work the lace loose from around my wrists. My arms drop, heavy and tingling, and he brings each of my hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside of each wrist and lingering for a beat against my pulse.
“Stay right there,” he breathes, and I crane my neck a bit as I watch him pad toward the bathroom.
He returns with a warm, damp towel and sits on the edge of the couch beside me, cleaning me up.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, glancing up at me.
“Incredible.” I grin at him as he finishes with the towel and tosses it onto the floor. “Warm. A little wrecked.”
He reaches for me with a returning grin, gathering me up against him and pulling me into his lap. His arms wrap around me, and I rest my cheek against his shoulder, my eyes falling closed as I listen to the low jazz drifting from the speakers.
After a long moment, he speaks again, his breath disturbing a few strands of my hair.
“Hey, Liv?”
