Page 69 of A Wreck, You Make Me (Bad Boys of Bardstown #3)

Chapter Twenty-Five

This kiss is just as all-consuming as our first one was.

My control still disappears the moment he makes contact, and his was never in the picture to begin with.

So we’re all bruising lips and clacking teeth.

He pulls at my hair to stretch my neck back, and I tug at his t-shirt to pull him down on me even more.

He hauls me up off the floor and I wrap my thighs around his waist as we eat at each other’s mouths.

As we kiss and bite and moan and taste each other.

He, as always, tastes like strawberries, and even though I know I don’t, he still thinks I do.

His mouth is hot and wet and so possessive that I melt and I think mine is the same, only so easily bent to his will that he grows harder.

A few seconds later, he breaks the kiss, and I think it’s over too soon. He puts me back down on the ground and I think I’m not ready to stand on my own feet. But none of those things matter because as soon as my feet touch the hardwood, he goes down.

As in, he kneels in front of me.

That in itself is a shocking thing to see, and not only because even kneeling down on the floor, he’s so large his face comes up to my heaving chest. No, the more shocking thing, the most shocking thing, is that floor is full of broken glass.

So essentially, my toxic asshole stepbrother who sent a soccer ball flying through the window, shattering it into a million pieces, is now kneeling on the wreckage he caused—he’s kneeling on broken glass, in front of me.

I fist his t-shirt and say, as if he doesn’t know, “Shepard, there’s… There’s glass everywhere.”

In response, he puts his hands on my waist, his large, scrape-y hands, bloody from the same broken glass, and grabs me tight.

I hold on to his corded forearms as he hauls me up against the door and practically puts me on his shoulders as I squeal and clench my eyes shut.

When I open them a second later, I’m looking down at him, his face between my pale thighs, his stare all dark and drugged up.

Then, flexing his hands that are on my butt, that are actually under the little purple nightie I’m wearing and on my panty-covered butt, he rasps, “That’s why this is your seat.”

I arch my bare toes and flex my ankles, digging my heels into his back. “Your shoulders?”

He shakes his head once, his stubble scraping my tender skin, making me bite my lip. “No, my mouth.”

My eyes go wide, and I fist his hair with both hands. “But this is… You’re already bleeding and your k-knees?—”

“Makes us even, yeah?” he rumbles, nuzzling his nose in my thighs. “I made you bleed so I bleed for you.”

I tug at his hair, arching my back. “But I don’t need that. I don’t need you to do that.”

He flexes his grip on my ass some more, practically kneading the flesh. “But I need it. I need to eat your pussy, lick it, fuck it, French kiss it while I kneel on broken glass and bleed for it.”

My pussy clenches at his words. Like he’s speaking directly to it, directly to my needy, horny core.

Still, I keep my wits about me for a second longer and try to make him see sense.

“But you know… that this is what happens. This is how…” I blush so fiercely but still push on, “A girl bleeds when she loses her v-virginity.”

And yes, I was freaked out about it too, but then he went ahead and made everything better.

He digs the pads of his fingers into my ass, anger passing through his features.

“Maybe, but my girl doesn’t go another day without being issued an apology for it.

And I’m already two days too late.” I suck my belly in, and he grabs my ass harder, parting the cheeks, stretching my crease out, and it’s such a novel sensation that I can’t help but arch my back again, as if offering up my pussy to him to apologize to.

Then, “And I don’t think I can go another second without sucking on you again and getting the taste of your pussy directly from the tap.

Pure and thick, like crack. Besides, I’ve also got another job to do. ”

“W-what job?”

“Using my tongue to spell your name on your cunt.”

He did make that promise long back. About spelling my name on my pussy if I agreed to be his.

Only I was a fool back then who thought I wanted him to call me by my name instead of the name he gave me.

Plus, he’s right. I totally missed most of the sensations when he licked me that night to clean my blood off, so I can’t wait to properly feel it when I’m awake.

So I don’t say anything after that. I don’t even think I can think anything after that, especially when he goes ahead and nuzzles his nose in my pussy.

Or rather my wet and sticky panties. He takes a whiff of them, and I moan like he’s gone ahead and licked me.

God knows what I’ll do when he actually does that.

I don’t have to wait too long to find out though, because he smells my core one more time, groans loudly, making me moan again and jerk in his hold, and then he gets down to business.

He keeps me secure on his corded, mountain-like shoulders and pushes the crotch of my damp panties aside.

I’ve felt that sensation so many times that my pussy recognizes his fingers.

I know what his rough skin and smooth nails feel like dragging across the most tender part of me, his thick and long fingers skimming my core, going up and down, making everything sloppy and steamy.

And he’s watching himself do it. He’s watching his fingers play with my pussy from only inches away .

And he likes it so much that his cheeks have become all flushed.

That his frame is shuddering with every breath he takes, his stubble raking against my inner thigh.

But I didn’t count on the fact that when he loses his patience and playtime is over, he’ll look up and our eyes will clash. He’ll close the distance between his mouth and my wet, pulsing core and take a long, slow swipe with his tongue. And well, I come.

Just from one lick of his tongue. Or maybe it was because he did it while staring into my eyes shamelessly, almost defiantly. Or maybe it was the flash of his sharp white teeth when he opened his mouth. Because that truly made him look like an animal. A vicious viper with poison in his veins.

Whatever it is, I lose control, and he feels it.

Because he groans and his laps become faster, as if he’s soaking everything with his tongue, and when it gets flooded because all of this is making me come even more, he closes his mouth around my tight, clenching hole and drinks me down right from the tap, right from the source, and God, why does that have to be so sexy, him gulping me down in thick, noisy swallows and then making the most satisfied noises.

Slurps and groans and smacks like this is the best thing he’s ever tasted.

Just like my mouth. Although he may like my pussy better than my mouth because his noises are louder and the way his frame is shaking makes me think he’s got an earthquake inside of him.

I’d be worried about him at this. I would be.

But the thing is I’m more worried about myself, because my orgasm isn’t stopping.

It’s not stopping at all. In fact, it keeps rolling through my body in giant waves.

It keeps pulsing out of my core and he keeps drinking it down.

He keeps sucking on me, playing with my clit, French kissing my pussy like he said he would.

I also think he spells my name out on my clit with his tongue but I can’t be sure.

I can’t be sure of anything except that I need him to stop now. I need it to stop.

So I pull at his hair, trying to move him away from me, as I moan, “I can’t… I can’t, Shepard. I…”

But he doesn’t listen. If anything, he grabs my ass even harder and jerks me into his mouth.

If anything , he thrusts his tongue inside my hole and licks me from the inside and oh my God, I explode.

I practically explode, or my pussy does, and I feel my orgasm bursting out.

Squirting out of me, my hips twisting and jerking, my thighs shaking around his face, my toes curling to the point that I feel a cramp coming on.

Still, he doesn’t stop. He eats me out through my squirting orgasm and makes me whine and moan and sob, causing my mind to go numb and making my body a convulsing, spasming mess.

I lose count of how many times he makes me come when suddenly, he’s up and his mouth, instead of wreaking havoc on my pussy, is on my mouth and I’m tasting myself.

I’m kissing my orgasm on his lips and his tongue, all tart and musky.

I’m even burying my fingers in my juices that apparently flew everywhere and landed on his jaw, his cheeks, even his throat, dripping down to his t-shirt.

Again, I’d stop to wonder about all this, about how crazily I came all over him, but I don’t have the capacity for it.

My body is still spasming from the residual orgasm, or rather orgasms, my hips randomly jerking in his arms. Plus, he’s making me taste myself in a kiss that has to be our sloppiest yet.

It’s all wet and slippery and drooling. Quite possibly because I have no control over my trembling mouth and he’s making everything deliberately wet.

He’s pushing his saliva into my mouth and it’s all ending up dripping from our jaws.

And on top of all this, he’s plastered me to his chest, opened the door and is now taking me away from my room.

Like that night at the party, he’s taking me somewhere, and I know wherever it is we’re going, he’s going to get me there safely.

And he does.