Page 12 of Full Out Fiend

He’s tall—I noticed it in the alley, then really registered the difference when I had to wrap my arms around his waist on the back of the motorcycle. But craning back to look up at him now reaffirms how foreboding he really is.

He holds my gaze for one second, then another. Heat builds in my core as he stares into the depths of my desire. Finally, he grasps me by the shoulders, spins me in place, and pins me to the wall.

He brushes my hair to one shoulder, inspiring goosebumps along my back. The warmth of his breath tickles my skin before he dusts feather-light kisses on my neck.

His fingertips trace the back of my neckline in a slow, drawn-out gesture. He’s not hesitating. But he’s clearly in no rush.

The dress tightens, stretching across my chest as he gathers the fabric, then grips the zipper.

The pull of the fabric is as tight as the tension coiling in my belly, his unhurried pace creating the most delicious anticipation in my core.

This man will be my undoing.

I’ve never been more eager to come undone.

The zipper travels down—down, down, down—the sound of the slow slide and the release of the straining fabric consuming me. Every inch of my exposed skin is greeted by his hands, then his lips. He’s kissing down my spine. Then he’s dropping to his knees.

I roll my shoulders to shuck off my dress as he unhooks my bra, the fabric fluttering down my body and pooling at my feet.

Fielding’s touch disappears for a fraction of a second as I stand there, nearly naked, pressed against his bedroom wall, desperate for him to make his next move.

I gasp when his fingertips brush against my ankles and physically shudder when his lips meet the crease of my pressed-together thighs.

With his hands hooked under the lace of my thong, he peels it down and discards it at my feet in one swift movement.

I’m bare. Naked, exposed, and so damn needy to feel him anywhere. No. not anywhere—everywhere.

Both his hands knead into the fleshy part of my ass, his breath still hot on the apex of my thighs.

“Fuck, angel. It’s even better than I imagined.”

I gulp at his praise, a tiny part of me wishing he’d stand back up before he notices the cellulite on my legs.

As if reading my mind and choosing to do theexactopposite, he doubles down, nips at the right cheek, then growls like a feral animal.

“This ass. These hips. You’re the whole damn package, Daphne. I could stay on my knees worshipping your backside all night. But I really want to taste your cunt.”

I have to brace my palms against the wall to stop my knees from buckling.

“Will you let me do that?” he murmurs, his nose probing my ass as he nudges me against the wall. “Can I fuck you with my tongue and suck on your clit until you come all over my face?”

Fuck. Me.

Literally.

My cheeks are so hot they feel sunburnt.

I’m more grateful than ever to be pressed up against the wall. If he had said that to my face, I might die. There’s that ever-present tingling of insecurity nudging at my conscious and reminding me that he could be making fun of me in this moment.

But he’s not.

I can feel his sincerity. Hislust. In the way he touches, in his tone.

I quiet the voice of self-doubt in my head and reply as confidently as I can muster.

“Yes,” I agree on an exhale. “But only if you promise to fuck me senseless when you’re done.”

One hand cracks against my ass cheek.