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She’d confessed to me that I made her edgy. Well I was going to smooth all her edges away.

Her fingers tightened in mine and her hips lifted. “Dexter,” she cried out, almost in disbelief. She made to shift away from me, to escape her pleasure, but I pressed my elbows down onto her thighs, keeping her in place. As I pushed my tongue through her folds, she began to pulse—her entire body juddered as she cried out. I stilled my tongue and watched as her orgasm coursed through her, her eyes opening to mine as she reached the peak and floated down back to me.

“You’re gorgeous,” I said, skirting my thumbs up her palms and then releasing her hands.

She shook her head as she tried to push to her elbows. “You’re . . . I mean. Wow. I’m in trouble.”

I chuckled and crawled over her and she swept her thumbs over my cheekbones and pulled me to her, kissing herself from my lips and then reaching down to undo my jeans. With fast fingers and a weird maneuver with her feet, my jeans and boxers were pushed to my ankles and I shook them off as she unclasped her bra.

“So, I met the band,” I said, lying on top of her as I pushed her hair off her face.

She giggled and squeezed her eyes shut. “How were they?”

“You taste fucking amazing,” I replied. “And watching you come is . . .”

She covered her eyes with her hand and I pulled it down.

“Look at me.”

Slowly she opened her eyes.

“Watching you come is like seeing a cut stone for the first time.” God, what was it with this woman and how corny she had me sounding? But I couldn’t explain it any other way—she was at her most beautiful when she climaxed.

“And it got me rock fucking hard,” I said, moving against her.

“I feel that.” She brought her legs up and I rested against her mound, the throb that had started in my dick spreading down my legs, up my torso. She began to rock under me, just tiny movements, that connected my dick and her clit.

“Are you dry humping me?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t say dry,” she replied.

I groaned just at the thought of driving into her wetness.

“You have a condom?” she asked.

I grabbed the one I’d left on the bedside table before I got undressed and covered my cock in record time. “You ready?”

She took a deep breath as if she were preparing herself for my dick inside her—as if she was slightly concerned it would be too much. Too big. Too hard. It felt like someone had cut the tie on my self-control—I couldn’t wait a moment longer.

I kneeled up, instinctively wanting to take in her reaction when I plunged into her. It wasn’t enough just to fuck her or taste her pussy—I wanted to possess this woman. I positioned her legs over my shoulders and for just a second before I pushed in, I paused, teasing—her or me, I wasn’t sure.

“Please,” she whimpered.

Had this girl burrowed into my subconscious and figured out the exact thing that would press my buttons, send me over the edge, and cause me to lose myself in the moment? Apparently, Hollie Lumen was my kryptonite.

I tensed my body, bracing myself for sensation, and thrust in as deep as I could go. A guttural roar ripped through my throat at being connected to this woman. The feeling was primal, as if what we were doing was necessary for our survival—like if we didn’t fuck, something would be desperately wrong in the world.

She shifted her hips and I turned to press a kiss against the delicate, soft skin of her leg and slid my hand down to press gently on her lower belly before pulling out softly and ramming back in.

Her hand covered mine. “That feels . . .”

I thrust in again and felt the ripples under my palm before she finished her sentence.

“Dexter, I’m going to come again. Wait—”

But I wasn’t going to wait. I couldn’t. Didn’t want to. I wanted to fuck. I wanted her to come and I wanted to do it all night.

I thrust and thrust and my jaw tensed so powerfully I thought it would shatter as her orgasm squeezed me oh-so-tightly. But I didn’t stop—wasn’t going to give her time to recover, make me laugh, make me want her more. No. I was just going to concentrate on fucking her. She was going to see that she should never have joked that she didn’t want to have dinner with me, never questioned whether or not we should date, or whether she should take the job. I was going to convince her that questioning anything to do with us was entirely ridiculous.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her words pushed out in a breathy fog.


Tags: Louise Bay The Mister Romance