Page 75 of Not So Goode
“Nope.”
“So they all knew. Jupiter knew. He sat across from me and talked to me like…oh shit. Like nothing had happened. And he’s yourfriend.” I let my legs fall open as he kissed from my knee to my groin, switched to the other thigh and started over, each kiss taking him closer to my sex, and I felt each kiss in my core, in my stomach, in my thighs, in my bones. “You think I’m so pure, so good.”
“You are.”
“I’mnotso good, Crow. And I don’twantto be good all the time anymore.” I pulled his face against me. “I’m okay being…not so good.”
He resisted. Gazed up at me. “Tell me no.” He sounded like he was pleading with me, in a weird way.
Like, if I let him do this, he’d be totally unable to resist me. To stop himself from taking all of me. As if that scared him, and he wanted me to stop him, so he wouldn’t fall any further into…
Whatever this terrifying thing was.
I shook my head. “Crow, I…” I thrust my hips against his face, begging for what he could make me feel.
He growled. “Dammit, woman.” He slid his tongue up my seam. Hot, wet, slithery, incredible. “Told you I can’t resist you. Been trying. Had a fuckin’ hard-on from hell all goddamn day, lookin’ at you, wanting you, needing you. Wanting to bury my cock so deep inside you you’ll…you’ll fuckin’ taste me from the inside. Trying to be good, for you. To give you the experience you deserve.”
“What is it you think I deserve, Crow?” I played with his hair, scraping fingernails against his scalp, feathering them through his hair, over the upper shells of his ears.
He murmured a wordless sound in his throat, as if my fingers in his hair was the best thing since…well, since my mouth on his cock, this morning. “Shit, woman, you deserve a palace. Roses. Champagne. A limo to a five-star hotel. Room service. Candles, fuckin’ Mozart or whatever. Beethoven, some soft romantic classical bullshit. A big white bed, and me takin’ hours to show you what it’s like to be fuckin’worshippedlike the goddess you are. That’s what you deserve.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Yeah, so—”
“I’mhere.” I palmed his cheeks. Wiggled my foot out of my shoe and then yanked my leg out of my legging and slung my naked thigh over his shoulder. “I’mhere, Crow. With you. In this bathroom, in this dirty fucking dive bar. I’m here, with you, and I wantthis.”
He peered up at me. “Why?”
“Hell if I know, but I do. And I’m not going anywhere.” I knotted my fingers in his hair. “Not until you make me scream.”
“Fuckin’ hell, woman,” he snarled, exasperated. “You’re crazy.”
“Yeah, I realize that.”
He licked me again, this time pausing at the very top of my sex to nudge my clit with his tongue. Then he circled it slowly, until I gasped. “You understand there’s no fuckin’ chance of this being over till I’m inside you, right?”
I whimpered. “Yes.” I watched him press his tongue to me, stiffen it and slide it into me. “Please?”
“Please what?”
“You. Inside me. Please.” I was, suddenly, incapable of coherency. “Now.”
He slithered his tongue over me, in me, through me, and when I began to flex my hips and gasp, he added a finger. And then two. And then three, in a triangle, inside me, slicking them inside me where I wantedhim.
It was quick—I was always quick to the first one, especially when he spent more than enough time building me up, backing me away and then driving me to the edge again. I ground myself against him, thigh around his neck and shoulder, writhing against him—or trying to, awkwardly, with one foot on the floor.
He withdrew his fingers from me, hooked his arms under my knees, and without warning lifted me, sitting on his shoulders, and stood up. Slammed me up against the door—I braced my hands on the low ceiling and screamed, thrusting against him wildly now as he devoured me to the edge and beyond, not stopping when I climaxed, but going past it. Tasting me and thrashing me with his tongue until I was shaking and pushing against his mouth and up against the ceiling and screaming through gritted teeth, coming and coming and coming so hard I saw stars flash in front of my tight-shut eyes.
And then, when I was quivering and boneless, he let my thighs slide off his shoulders, caught me, and settled me on the floor. My legs gave out, so I held onto him—catching at his belt.
“How convenient,” I murmured, my knees shaking even as my core begged for more…or no more, I wasn’t sure which.
I unbuckled him, unzipped, unbuttoned. Different underwear. Different black jeans, for that matter, but same leather biker cut. Yanked his underwear away from his body and down, past his surging, straining cock. Shoved them down. Fondled him in my fists, both of them plunging down to circle and twist at his base.
“Fuck, fuck Charlie—slow down. Do that much more and this’ll be over before it starts. On a hair fuckin’ trigger right now, babe.”
“I don’t care, Crow. I just need you.”