Page 26 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart (Houston Baddies #3)

poppy

. . .

H e is everywhere I want him to be.

Before I can catch my breath, Turner’s over me, knees bracketing my hips, forearms caging me in. His chest hovers inches above mine, his breath hot against my cheek, his hair a wild, damp mess falling over his forehead.

He looks at me like he’s still hungry, and we’re only getting started…

I’ve wanted this since the second he saw me in the kitchen, wearing nothing but underwear and caught off guard, his expression burned in my brain—the way his tongue is now seared onto my skin.

My pussy is throbbing.

His eyes are locked on mine, dark and intense, the air between us so heavy it’s hard to breathe. Then he says it, voice low and rough, dripping with filthy intent.

“I want to ruin your pussy.”

The words slam into me, knocking the air from my lungs.

They’re so blunt, so dirty, so unlike what I know about him so far that my brain short-circuits for a split second, blinking at this version of him—the one staring down at me like he wants to devour me whole.

A tremor rolls through my body, my thighs squeezing around his hips as the ache between my legs intensifies.

“What?” I breathe, barely a whisper.

He dips his head, nose skimming along the curve of my jaw, his breath hot against my ear.

“You heard me,” he murmurs into my ear, causing me to shiver. “I want to wreck you. I want to make you come so hard and fuck you so deep, you feel me for days.”

I want that, too.

He grinds against me, the thick length of him pressing right where I need him most, and I moan, lifting my hips to meet him, needing more, needing everything.

I want him naked.

I grip the waistband of his shorts, my fingers are barely functional and push them down his hips. The fabric drags over his skin, revealing inch after inch of golden muscle, the ridges of his abs, the sharp cut of his hips.

And then his cock springs free, thick and heavy and already leaking, so hard it almost brushes my belly as it springs up. My breath catches in my throat, a soft, needy whimper slipping out before I can stop it.

I am so needy.

So desperate.

So excited…

Turners jaw clenches, eyes locking on my face as I reach between our bodies, wrapping my fingers around the thick length of him. He hisses, his whole body jerking as I stroke him, sliding my thumb over the wet tip, spreading the slickness down his shaft.

His hips thrust, fucking himself into my fist, and I watch his eyes squeeze shut and the way he parts his lips as another groan rips free.

He’s so handsome, I can’t peel my eyes away.

“You’re so thick,” I whisper, getting excited, stroking him faster—harder—my other hand slipping down to cup his balls, rolling them gently.

He trembles, muscles going taut beneath my touch.

His hands come down, covering mine, stilling my movements. “Slow down,” he grits out, his breath shuddering. “Or I’m going to come all over your pretty little hand.”

How can he already be close to coming?

His eyes open, dark and hooded, locked on mine as he drags my hand off his cock and lifts it to his mouth.

He kisses my palm, his tongue flicking over the skin there, eyes never leaving mine. “My turn,” he says, his voice a low, rough purr that sends a shiver straight down my spine.

Before I can respond, he’s shifting, sliding down my body, his mouth trailing wet, open kisses down my neck, my chest, my stomach.

Every inch of skin he touches, he marks—his teeth grazing, his tongue soothing, his lips sucking until I’m writhing beneath him, desperate and aching and so fucking ready.

“Turner,” I gasp, my hands tangling in his hair, tugging him closer, needing his mouth where I want it most. “Oh my gawd…”

“Shh.” His breath is hot against my belly, his hands spreading me as he settles between my legs, eyes dark and ravenous as he stares at me, bare and open and burning for him.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, voice dripping with praise as he drags his tongue up the length of my slit, slow and deep, tasting every inch of me.

I cry out, back arching off the bed, hands fisting the sheets as his tongue circles my clit, sucking so hard I see stars.

With a moan my legs fall open wider, thighs shaking around his head as he buries his face between them, licking me like I’m the only thing he needs to survive.

He hooks his arms under my thighs, pulling me closer, holding me down as he devours me, tongue flicking, sucking, driving me higher and higher until I’m panting, gasping, writhing beneath him.

“God, Turner—oh my god,” I practically sob, hips rocking against his mouth, chasing every swirl of his tongue, every hot, wet stroke that sends another bolt of pleasure zinging through me.

Then he slides one finger inside me, hitting that spot that makes me see white… spots. More stars.

I will never survive this.

“More,” I plead, voice breaking, hands yanking at his hair, nails scraping his scalp. “Please. More.”

And he gives it to me. Another finger, thicker, deeper, stretching me, fucking me slow and steady as his mouth latches onto my clit, sucking hard, tongue flicking mercilessly until I’m spiraling, teetering on the edge, every muscle tensed and shaking and ready to snap.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, dark and filthy, his fingers fucking me harder, deeper, mouth sucking me closer, closer, closer …

Every wet stroke of his tongue sends me higher.

I want to come.

I want it so bad .

The orgasm pulls, teasing me.

But…

As my eyes and fingers graze the top of his scalp, instead of giving in—I push. Push at him so he’ll stop.

I want him inside me when I do it.

Want him to come, too.

I want it together.

Is that weird? Since we’re not a couple or a thing or even a one-night stand? We’re roommates and now: lovers?

“What are you doing?” he asks. “I’m not done with you.” His brows pull together, confusion clouding his gaze as I keep pushing at his shoulders, urging him to move.

“I want you inside me.” My words come out on a shaky breath. “I’m desperate.”

So desperate.

Something flashes in his eyes—something dark and needy and maybe even a little possessive.

He shifts, one hand reaching between us, the faint rip of foil sounding between our ragged breaths before he fists himself, sliding the thin barrier on with practiced ease.

Then he grabs his cock, lining it up, the fat, swollen head brushing against my entrance. My breath hitches, my nails digging into his shoulders as he notches himself at my entrance, holding himself there, eyes locked on mine.

So.

Perfect.