Page 8 of Heated Takeover

“Mmmm,” I hum and give him an alluring smile. I don’t want him to stop.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he grits out. “You should know this, it’s the truth.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I’m not used to–”

“Well, get used to it,” he growls. “You should be complimented endlessly. Give in to the way my hands make you feel, the way my mouth makes you feel. Give in to the way I make you feel.”

Before I can process his words, his mouth covers one of my nipples, and I gasp. He kisses it softly, but it’s enough to set fire to every nerve in my body. When his tongue finds the tip of my nipple, I actually moan.

“Oh my God,” I let out as it flicks and teases me. After teasing me into a frenzy, Ash picks me up, and instinctively my legs wrap around his waist. It feels like I’m in a movie. Like we are Allie and Noah from the Notebook. The only thing we’re missing is the rowboat and the rain, but who needs that when you have a gondola and the ocean.

I’m thinking too much, but Ash knows exactly what to do to pull me out of my thoughts and into the moment. He kisses me again, before he comes to his knees and lays me down on the floor. The glass floor. It feels like I am lying on nothing.

“It’s okay,” he tells me, sensing I may be a little afraid lying on a glass floor. “It’s safe.”

I don’t know what it is about him, but after he told me it was safe, I believed him fully.

I nod and he kisses me once more on the lips, then his mouth trails down my neck, pampering my breasts again for a moment. He continues south but stops at the waistline of my skirt. He looks it over for just a second, and I wonder if he is going to try to pull it off. That’s probably not going to work, but Ash doesn’t see problems; he finds solutions. The solution to getting my pencil skirt out of his way is shoving it up past my hips until all he sees are my black satin panties.

“Mm,” he hums as he kisses my thighs. I giggle when his chin scruff brushes the sensitive skin. It both tickles and turns me on, and I bite my lip in reaction to both.

“I want to taste you,” he murmurs coarsely.

“Okay.” I nod. I’m in this to the full extent, if he wants to taste me, I’ll allow it. I could use a mind-blowing euphoric experience tonight.

“Ohhhhh…” I let out because he pulls my panties aside and covers me with his mouth. It’s like the RosePetal 2.0, but oh so much better. In fact, I think he might have just ruined my favorite toy for me.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he growls into me, creating a vibrating sensation and making me squirm under the pressure of his tongue as it slides up and down the length of me.

“Oh God,” I whimper as I reach for something, anything to grab onto because at the rate this is going, I definitely will not make it long. My entire body is on fire as he licks and flicks and sucks and kisses. It’s like lowering into a hot tub of pleasure, every nerve being toyed with and tantalized.

“I think I’m going to come,” I warn him, and I feel my cheeks flush. I’ve never gotten off this fast before. Or maybe I’ve never gotten off this fast before because no man has ever come close to giving me this amount of pure, blissful satisfaction.

“Mm,” he responds with nothing more than another vibrating hum. Between that and the fact that his wandering hands have found my deliciously sensitive nipples again, I come undone. My hips shudder against his mouth, flickering tongue, and his hums. My hands, desperate for something to hang onto, find his muscular shoulders and I clasp them, grip them, run my hands down the backs of them, scratching and scraping as the orgasm overtakes me in waves that crash over and over and over until finally my body relaxes and I am left gasping.

“Oh God,” I let out in a light sigh. As satisfying as that was, I want more…I need more. And guessing by the bulge in his pants, I’m pretty sure he does too.

“What else do you want?” he asks, and I’m surprised he’s not out of breath. I don’t know if he’s just in really good shape for how or if he’s got a lot of experience under that Italian leather belt of his. I’m not really sure how old he is; early forties, maybe? Whatever it is, other than the small beads of sweat glistening against his olive skin, his talent is Olympic in the going down department.

“I want…you,” I say as my eyes trace the girthy bulge in his slacks, and I actually find myself biting my lip.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he says with a gritty smirk as he comes to his feet, standing over me like a statue. He undoes his belt and his slacks, sliding them down his hips enough to expose black boxer briefs. Then, he lowers those and takes hold of his cock. My mouth actually drops at the size of it. The solidity of it. The smooth skin, the veins, and the sheer rock-like hardness of it.

His hand glides over it, once, twice, slowly showing off its erectness and length.

I slip off my panties, tossing them somewhere behind me.

“So beautiful,” he says as he lowers himself down on top of me. He glides the head over me, teasing my clit until I’m nearly on the edge of begging for round two before finding my opening and pressing into it. Slowly. Firmly. One epic inch after another until…

“Oh God,” I whimper.

“Is it too much?” he asks. And while it is a lot, it’s not too much. It’s the right amount. Not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to fill me up with so much of him that I’m not sure where he ends and I begin.

“No,” I shake my head. “Keep going.”

He grins cockily at that. “Yes, ma’am,” he says and slides himself the rest of the way in, causing both of us to moan.

“Goddamn, baby girl,” he says and a jolt of electricity races up my spine at the words. No one has ever called me that before. And I like it, especially coming out of his mouth. “You feel so good.”