Page 148 of Small Town, Big Storm
“Storm!”she squeals when I scoop her up into my arms.
I kiss her as I carry her over to the bed, drop back onto the mattress with her on top of me.
Because I can’t let go of her ass.
Because I can’t stop kissing her.
Our lips meld and our tongues tangle, and when she kisses down my throat, I flip us, rip my shirt over my head.
Then I flip us back.
She laughs.“I feel like a pancake.”
I taste that laugh, deep and wet and long.Then I lean back and wave a hand down the length of my body.“You may continue.”
A giggle, but it’s done against my skin.And then her tongue is flicking out, dragging along my flesh as she makes her way down to my pec.
I grunt, hand fisting in her hair when she scrapes her teeth along my nipple.
“Payback,” she whispers.
“You like it,” I whisper back.
“So do you.”
I groan when she sucks, my answer stoppering up in my throat.Then groan again when she keeps kissing her way down my body, tugging at the waistband of my shorts, dragging them and my boxer briefs down.
“Mmm,” she says, wrapping her hands around my dick, stroking.“You know, you never did let me go down on you.”
“I’m certainly not going to stop you now.”
Laughter…and this time it’s on the tip of my cock.
“Fuck,” I groan.
Then I’m cursing as those plump lips part and she takes me inside.
Slick and wet.Hot and tight.
Oh…fuck.Her tongue flicks and her hand works and she pumps and sucks and?—
I pull her off.
Because a few more seconds ofthatand it’ll be over.
“Storm,” she protests.
I respond by cupping her breast and suckling at her nipple.Her fingers weave into my hair and she writhes beneath me, legs wrapping tight, pelvis grinding.
Fuck, she’s wet.
So damned ready.
And…hell, so am I.
But this isn’t going to be flowers and candlelight and hours of me kissing every inch of her body, so I need to make this good for her.
I slide down her front, tasting curves and sensitive spots, trailing over freckles and nipping at her hip bones.Then parting her legs and getting my mouth on that delicious pussy of hers.
