Page 83 of Love to Loathe Him

Oh god.

He grabs one of my legs and hoists it over his shoulder. My eyes widen as I feel his length slide against my wet slit.

“Wait . . . condom,” I gasp, trying to catch my breath.

“Easy there, tiger,” he rumbles. “We’re not there yet.” A slow smirk curves his sensual lips. “Ready to turn those fantasies into reality?”

“They’re your fantasies too. You want this as much as me,” I challenge.

“I’ve no shame admitting that,” he replies smoothly. “In fact, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve imagined bending you over my desk as punishment for missing one of my deadlines.”

“Your deadlines are ridiculous. And I rarely miss them!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me,” he warns, and I don’t think he’s joking.

I go to retort, but a squeak escapes my lips as he lowers himself and runs his tongue over my slit. Holy shit. He’s eating me out and he hasn’t even kissed me. It’s almost transactional, but damn is it turning me on.

“Oh god,” I cry out as my legs clamp around his head.

His talented tongue finds my swollen clit. I feel delirious with pleasure.

Looking down, all I can see is his strong jaw between my trembling thighs. I grip on to his dark hair as he increases the pressure on my clit with his expert tongue.

Slow and controlled, but with an air of dominance—just like him.

Then his fingers are inside me, gliding in and out of my slickness, finding that sweet spot that makes my eyes roll to the back of my head.

After five long years of enduring Liam’s angry glares, the sight of his head between my thighs, his tongue worshiping my clit, is almost too much to process.

I buck off the bed, gripping his hair for dear life.

“Relax,” he growls into my core, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through my body.

This is intense. I don’t think I can handle it.

“Liam,” I moan, dragging out his name as he sucks on my clit, his fingers still going strong. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing down there, but no one has ever done that before.

I feel like I’m going to have the most explosive orgasm of my life. I can’t think straight. I’m not in control.

I can’t breathe, can’t think past the sensations radiating from my clit. I want to scream and shout and possibly break into tears of pure ecstasy. Oh god, oh god, I might pass out from pleasure alone.

He pauses his exploration of my clit and hovers over me, watching intently as I writhe beneath him, his fingers still working some crazy magic.

“You’ve never had your g-spot found before.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

I try to answer but a wave of pleasure has me arching off the bed once more. “I guess not,” I manage to choke out, grabbing his forearm and squeezing tightly while he watches me with a devilish glint in his eyes, his fingers still wreaking havoc inside me.

I’m gonna . . . oh fucking hell . . . this is too much . . .

“Liam . . . I’m going to . . .”

I want him to keep going but I want him to stop. I can’t take any more.

And he refuses to look away.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs, and I feel a torrent of liquid escape from me in the most intense orgasm of my life.

“I peed myself!” I cry out, covering my face with my hands.