Page 100 of Penalty Box

He alternated between lapping hungrily at my clit and circling it with infuriating slowness. I couldn’t decide which was going to drive me more insane.

Then he moved lower still, and a small whimper spilled out of me. I mourned the loss of his mouth on my clit, but was comforted to find his tongue asking for access. I spread my legs wider, and Mason plunged into me, thrusting with purpose, tracing lazy circles at my entrance. Every stroke dragged me closer to oblivion.

“Don’t stop,” I begged.

He didn’t. His hands came up to grip my hips firmly, keeping me still for him. His tongue thrust in again, relentless, curling inside me like he meant to ruin me completely. If he only knew…

The sound of my own slick filled the quiet workshop, dirty and beautiful at the same time. And I took everything he had togive. Every last inch of it. I rocked against his face, feeling that familiar heat creeping up my thighs, my neck.

“I’m close.”

He moaned into me, and moved to suck my clit back into his mouth one last time. He held me captive like that, letting me rock against his face until the searing wave crashed over me. Still, he didn’t stop. Not until I was a quaking mess standing over him, dripping, ruined.

Only then did he pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice was thick with arousal when he said, “Now go lie down over there.”

Twitching, shaking, I took my position on the workbench in the corner. He followed close behind, lowering himself on top of me.

“I can’t wait to call you my wife,” he whispered. The feel of his solid need pressed hard at my entrance.

I was so wet, it didn’t take more than a nudge for Mason to slip inside and fill me up.

And then he kissed me, deep and slow. The kind of kiss that promised forever.