Page 102 of Full Out Fiend
“Just like this?” He angles over me and bites at the pulse point in my neck before turning my head and stealing a bruising kiss that leaves me breathless.
“Just like that,” I pant. I wiggle my ass in the air, frantic to feel him slam into me. But it’s not his cock that makes contact first. It’s his hot, demanding mouth.
He licks my entire slit and both his hands dig into my ass as he spreads me wide. He lets out a string of expletives before probing me with his tongue. “I fucking love the way you taste,” he practically moans against my core. I peek over my shoulder and watch as he feasts—it’s such a turn-on to hear him moan and feel the ferocity of his lust.
I arch my back and get lost in the ministrations of his mouth, but at this angle, it’s just not enough to push me over the edge. I moan and pant, and as if he can read my mind, he instantly pulls back. “You need more, don’t you, angel?”
I whimper my assent, trusting that he knows exactly what I want. And I practically squeal in delight when he rises to his knees, leans forward to wrap one hand around my throat, and shoves me face firs- into the bed.
“You like that?” he murmurs. He knows damn well I do. With his cock teasing my entrance, he leans forward again and kisses my shoulder. “You better make a fucking mess on my dick, angel. I’m going to give it to you just how you like it, but you need to be a good girl and come hard. Think you can do that for me?”
My eyes are already glazing over with pleasure, but I nod wordlessly and arch up to meet that first delicious thrust. He doesn’t ease into me—he knows better than to take it slow—instead setting a brutal pace as he fucks me from behind.
Fuck. Yes. Just like this.
I purr in satisfaction when his balls slap my clit. Every time our bodies connect and he bottoms out, he squeezes my throat, electrifying every one of my nerves.
He’s relentless as he hammers into me—giving me everything I want and all I need. When I’m close, I return the generosity.
“Fielding,” I manage to choke out, my voice raw and airy from the way he’s gripping my neck.
“Yes, angel?” he teases. He knows what’s coming. We both do. That doesn’t make it any less thrilling. There’s a distinct intimacy in knowing exactly what your partner craves without them even having to ask.
“Harder. Please. I’m close. I need you.”
He grunts, bottoms out again, then fucks me even deeper.
“Please don’t stop,” I cry, bracing my arms against the headboard as he drills into me harder. His hand leaves my throat and shoves between the mattress and my body. When he pinches my clit and doesn’t let go, my entire core tightens, and I finally topple over the edge.
He fucks me through the orgasm, only letting himself come once I’m a sated, whimpering mess. Eventually, he slows, his forehead coming to rest in the middle of my back as we savor the aftershocks and waning waves of pleasure.
I love how well he knows me: how he doesn’t question my requests, try to temper his pace, or give me anything less than his personal best.
Slow and steady was never going to be enough where this man is concerned. Hard and fast is perfect when it comes to Fielding Haas.
The alarm I insisted on setting vibrates on the nightstand beside us. Fielding groans against my stomach, right near my c-section scar, before he resumes lavishing me with kisses.
After round one, he ordered room service, and we both dozed off just long enough to recover for round two. Now we’re somewhere between rounds three and four. I’ve sort of lost count of our orgasms in my blissed-out state. All I know is that we’ve been at it for hours. He hasn’t stopped touching me. Kissing me. Gathering up our joint release and using it to get me off again.
I hit snooze to silence my phone but rise to my elbows anyway.
“No,” he groans in protest, his mouth tickling lower as his tongue brushes over my swollen, sensitive clit. “I’m not done with you. I need more.”
“More? More what?” I tease, running one hand through his wild, crazy sex hair.
“Everything,” he answers without hesitation. “More kisses. More cuddles. More orgasms.” He peers up at me and smirks. “More moments like this.” He sweeps two fingers through his cum, massaging it between my folds before pushing it back into my pussy and crooking his fingers. I whimper on instinct, my body betraying the more sensible part of my brain that says we really do have to get going.
“Today was incredible. Thank you,” I murmur, pulling him toward me and forcing him to focus on something besides my pussy. “I promise we’ll have more everything. I want more with you, too.”
He kisses me slowly, trying in vain to deepen the kiss before I pull back and give him a look. “But right now—”
“I know, I know,” he groans. “I just can’t get enough.” He kisses my lips again, then licks down my neck. He grazes both my breasts before kissing my stomach and trying to resituate between my thighs.
“Fielding!” I scold, clamping my legs around his head to stop whatever he thinks he’s about to start.
“Ten more seconds,” he counters, pressing the flat of his tongue against my core and groaning in pleasure. “Fuck, I love the way you taste when you’re filled with my cum.”
Arousal courses through me—again. I’m such a sucker for his delicious, dirty mouth.