That’s what kissing Ross Rivers felt like.
She had zero control over what was happening. He made sure of that. From the hand pinning her shoulders to the brick to the other splayed at her waist, leaching heat into her. He was like a burning flame pressed up to her and she was the pathetic little moth about to get her behind incinerated. Okay, maybe the rest of her too.
Ross ate at her mouth before he trailed his tongue over her upper lip. It should have been gross. Strange and weird. It was strange, alright, when he licked the ice cream off her lip. His tongue danced away, and he groaned as he licked the tip of her nose. He swirled his tongue over her cheeks, over her chin, licking and devouring, suckling, cleaning her face off for her. It was the hottest thing anyone could have done.
Fricking Ross Rivers.
Instead of shoving him away and demanding to know what the living hell he was doing, she leaned into him. She arched into him, wonton and desperate, burning hot, chaffing, soaked in her jeans. Her hands flew to his waist and she shamelessly tugged his hips toward hers. They slammed together and she writhed and ground against the bulge in his jeans that rammed into her waist. It was at the wrong angle and she tried to shift to get closer, but he wouldn’t let her. Instead, he shifted away, kicked her feet a little further apart, and jammed his knee between her legs.
It was scorching hot and it was filthy as hell. As filthy as him dragging his tongue all over her face, rubbing his cheeks and his jaw all over her tender skin until she was on fire there too from the rasp and scrape of the light shadow he sported on his sharp as a knife jawline.
While she ground down on his jean clad knee, trying to relieve the building ache between her legs, grinding and writhing like she was fourteen, shameless, and desperate to know what getting off with an actual person felt like for the first time, Ross attacked her mouth.
He was sweet and salty from the ice cream and her skin. He was dark and spicy and that was all him. He was rich and heady and exotic and that was him too. He licked at the seam of her lips, then thrust his tongue inside so far when she whimpered, that she could almost feel him at the back of her throat. He ate her mouth. Ate her whimpers.
Just when she thought that she’d die of frustration, he shoved his hand under her shirt and this time, when he found that she was just earing a flimsy lace bralette, it was her turn to swallow his groan.
Ross Rivers groaned into her mouth.
Ross Rivers had his hand on her breast. Cupping her bare breast. He twisted her nipple between his fingers. Her back arched in response while heat pooled all around her belly, and lower, between her legs where she was pretty sure she was already soaking through her jeans.
He did it again, twisted and flicked her nipple while he stroked her tongue, and she shuddered and vibrated between him and the wall.
She ground down harder against his leg. Harder. Faster. Her denim and her panties created the little bit of extra friction she needed, jamming and twisting, the seams rubbing her in all the right spots. It hurt. A lot. It also felt so glorious she forgot how to breathe. Her hips hammered against the wall and back to Ross’s strong thigh. She rode him hard, hard enough to create a spark that ignited the gasoline flooding her stomach.
I’m coming. I’m freaking going to come like this in a disgusting alley with all of our clothes still on.
Everything clicked, like that chemical reaction of gas and flame, and the explosion was spectacular. She screamed into Ross’s mouth and he swallowed the sound. He kept right on swallowing it until she was a withered, panting, wilted mess, then he ripped his mouth away and licked and suckled her chin and neck. She was still panting and shuddering like a crumpled-up leaf on the windiest day in history when he licked the juncture of her throat and neck before he sunk his teeth into it.
She reacted forcefully, nearly coming all over again. Ross wasn’t done with her. He dropped his head while she plowed her fingers through his messy hair, taking care not to grab too hard, because reality crowded in and she remembered that he had a half-healed cut along his scalp. He pushed her tank up and attacked her nipple with his mouth, sucking and licking at her through the thin lace of her bra.
“Make yourself come again,” he commanded while he destroyed her with his amazing tongue.