Then I raised her dress to her waist, leaving her bare from bellybutton to heels. Her legs were long and lean, and the area between her thighs? Fuck me, she was waxed clean except for a small strip of dark curls just above her cleft.
“Christ, Langley, you’re perfect.” I ran a finger down her slit, and her hips bucked upward. “Fucking. Perfect.”
“Get up here and give me the kiss you promised,” she ordered, looking at me like I was next on her dessert menu.
I answered her with a smirk, then slid back on the couch until my shoulders lay between her thighs.
“What are you doing?” she asked as I kissed the silken skin of her thigh.
“Giving my wife a goodnight kiss, just like I promised.” She might not be emotionally ready to take my cock, but I’d know how my wife tasted before the end of tonight. She’d know just one of the ways that I could bring her to orgasm.
“Axel!” she cried out as I set my mouth on her.
I pulled her legs over my shoulders and locked her thighs with my hands as I tongued at her clit, swirling around the swollen bud, but never giving her the direct friction she was arching at me for.
My tongue ran long sweeps from her opening to her clit, waking up every nerve ending and taking in her honeyed, heady taste. Fuck, she was impossibly sweet. I was never going to get enough of this.
Over and over I licked at her until her hips writhed under me and her moans turned to begging whimpers of please.
Then I entered her with my tongue, thrusting over and over as she clenched at me. My dick swelled to an impossible hardness, knowing she’d clamp down just as hard when it was my cock driving into her instead.
“Axel!” Langley cried, her fingers tangling in my hair, both tugging and holding me to her in desperation. She was arching against me, her hips bucking as she sought her completion. Her deep brown eyes met mine, almost wild in her pleasure.
I replaced my tongue with two fingers and groaned with how tight she was. Fuck, I was going to stretch her when the time finally came to take her.
“Yes!” she cried, rocking down on my fingers, ready to take her orgasm herself.
“Fuck, you’re so responsive,” I growled. This woman was a damned dream, stretched out beneath me with no false modesty or hesitation. She knew exactly what she wanted, which had me turned on to the point where I felt drops of wet inside my boxer briefs.
My cock was literally weeping with the need to get inside of her.
“Please, baby, please,” she cried, her plea echoed in her eyes.
Moving my fingers to find her inner nerve bundle, I sucked her clit between my lips and flicked it with my tongue.
She screamed.
Her body locked, rigid, her muscles straining, as I flicked at her again. Then I pressed her clit with my tongue, pumping her with my fingers, and she came apart.
Her orgasm shook her legs and drew a loud cry from her lips that formed my name. Over and over her body rocked, riding the wave, and just as she started to let up, I withdrew my fingers and pressed her clit again with my thumb, sending her on a second orgasm that had her crying louder than the first.
There was a ringing in my head from the need to thrust inside her, to feel her legs wrapped around me as I pushed into her again and again. I needed to fuck her more than I needed air, or food, or even my own heartbeat.
The ringing intensified, and my ass was vibrating.
I grabbed my phone from my back pocket and stared at it, confused for a moment in my lust. My thumb answered it on auto-pilot even as I cursed myself seven times a fool.
“What?”
“Will you accept a collect call from the Charleston County Jail?” the automated voice asked. “Connell MacDhuibh,” Connell’s voice filled the receiver before switching back to the automated one. “Press one for yes.”
I pressed one and cursed, bringing myself to sit beside Langley.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, lowering her dress over her thighs and sitting up. Her hair was loose and now looked like she’d been nearly, thoroughly fucked.
“I’m going to kill Connell, that’s what,” I growled.
“Well, don’t kill me too quickly. You might need me tomorrow night,” he answered, his Scottish accent burring his r’s. “And if you don’t need me, then you definitely need Price and Ward, because they’re in here with me. And so are Caine and Chandler, so...”
“What the fuck did you do?” I snapped, already missing the sight of Langley’s spread thighs.
“We got into a wee bar fight at Scythe.”
“With each other?” I shouted.
“Och, no. Of course not. Some Hurricanes fans, assholes.” He cleared his throat. “But we were hoping maybe you’d come down and post bail so we don’t have to bother Coach?” His tone lifted in a plea.