Page 148 of Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

Xav grins wickedly, squeezing my throat and granting my wish as his experienced mouth collides with mine. Every last drop of fear is drained out of my system when he jerks my sweater over my head and tosses it to the side.

His blue eyes rake down my body with a yearning so carnal it’s enough to make a girl dizzy. Xavier takes it all in, my bare stomach, my thin bra highlighting my pierced, puckered nipples, although I doubt he can see much in the darkness of the parking lot.

Wait, we’re still in a parking lot.

My eyes pop open.

“Xav, s-someone could see us,” I remind him, strangely aroused by the possibility of getting caught.

His deep, careless laugh mak

es me tingle everywhere. “So?”

I’m about to argue when he yanks my bralette down my chest, the sound of tearing fabric drawing a gasp out of me. I don’t get a chance to scold him for ruining my clothes before his mouth latches onto my sensitive nipples one by one, his big hands cupping each of my breasts as he gets down to business.

I can’t help moaning at the sensation of his tongue teasing my barbell piercings. Xavier works my painfully stiff nipples until I’m clenching my thighs together, needing more of that love downstairs.

You’d think I said it out loud by how fast his lips snake down my stomach, planting slow, torturous kisses all over my skin. Shy Aveena threatens to come out when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my leggings, tugging them down my legs in a haste and exposing my lilac panties.

It’s one thing to have him finger me, it’s another to have him bury his face in my slit. No guy has ever been this close to me. Not even Logan.

I swallow hard.

Xavier catches on immediately.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “I can stop.”

His voice is thick with need, repressed urges, but I know he means it, no matter how lustful he is.

“Don’t,” I reassure him and myself. “I want this.”

Xavier smiles like the beautiful little devil that he is and slides my underwear off before jerking my thighs apart. He spreads my legs as far and wide as they go and I see him trap his bottom lip between his teeth at the close-up.

Then he goes to town.

Xavier eats me out like a starving man enjoying his last meal. His persistent tongue twirls around my clit. Fast. Slow. Fast again. This is nothing like I’d imagined. It’s better. My head falls back when his palms slink under me. He grips my ass, sucking my clit into his mouth so hard my back arches off the truck.

Good God, did he take a class or something?

I take a fistful of his hair. One more flick of my clit and I forget all about the possibility of someone pulling into the lot and catching us. Because he’s determined to rob me of my sanity, Xav comes to the conclusion that his tongue isn’t enough.

I’m so wet he easily slides two fingers inside me, and grunts in appreciation when a moan trickles from my lips. His fingers curling in and out of me, and the pressure of his tongue combined are unbearable. I’ve never experienced this kind of ecstasy in my life, and I’m almost embarrassed by how fast I start to shake. How fast my eyes roll back.

I squeeze my thighs together to prevent my unraveling, crushing Xav’s head, and he responds by forcing my legs apart again and continuing to finger-fuck me to high heaven.

“We’re not done, Harper,” he says in a gruff voice and presses his mouth back to my center. I’m at his mercy. Defenseless, but it’s his tongue that disarms me completely.

His fast, powerful strokes.

My orgasm pours over me like sheeting rain, and my hips buck as I finally accept my fate and the heart-stopping pleasure that comes with it. I know there is no silencing my moans when I reach the pinnacle.

I have no words.

Except maybe “Fuck.”

Xavier gives me a moment to catch my breath before climbing back up my body and tearing me apart with a kiss that tastes like me. His erection presses up against me, and I find injustice in the amount of clothes he’s wearing while I’m butt naked in a public parking lot.

I’m hauling his T-shirt over his head before I know it. My fingers mold his smooth skin, his pecs, his shoulders, his six-pack. I drag slow kisses across his muscled chest and realize I want to kiss an entirely different part of him.