by Nicole Snow
Another something that’s never happened before.
Ecstasy consumes me in all its relentless, shrieking glory as I sink deep into the couch, utterly amazed, trying to comprehend what he’s done to me, and what I’ll always want him to do.
Smiling, Quinn kisses me back to life.
Sure, it’s not quite Sleeping Beauty, but if that drowsy bitch ever came this hard on the hand of the man she’s been lusting over a whole freaking decade?
Yeah.
Yeah, I think Prince Charming’s kiss might be the only thing in the universe to snap her out of that coma.
“I...I’ve never come before,” I tell him once I can form words again. “Not during sex.”
The grin he throws at me threatens to make it happen again.
“I figured. You had a lot of pent-up energy, darlin’. You still do.” His expression sharpens into something very, very hungry.
“It was amazing,” I whisper, shaking my head at how inadequate that word really is.
He stands, scooping me off the couch like I’ve gone fully weightless.
Maybe I have, considering I can’t feel gravity anymore.
“Wait till round two.”
Oh, crap. How had I forgotten?
We haven’t even had sex-sex yet...or the thousand other things my body suddenly aches to do with him.
Looping my arms around his neck, I smile.
“Will I have to wait long?”
“Just the minute it takes to get you to bed,” he tells me.
Joyous, I laugh and tease him, stroking my legs against his.
“Promises, promises,” I whisper. “You’d better not under-deliver.”
He quirks a brow. “That even a question after I made you come your soul out?”
Flushed cherry-red, I shake my head.
No way.
If there’s one thing I’ll never doubt, it’s Quinn Faulkner’s prowess in the art of mastering the female body.
No sooner than we’re upstairs, he throws me on the bed and sheds his clothes.
Before I can even say ginormous, I’m face to shaft with a swollen, angry rod of a dick that’s almost as thick as my wrist. He turns, mischief on his face, like he fully expected to stun me speechless.
“Your move, darlin’. I’m all yours tonight.” He inhales sharply.
I look up, catching the want in his eyes and their dark, amused energy, wrapping my fingers around his cock, just as full, hard, and strong as the rest of him.
A few quick pumps send this pearly, clear liquid pulsing into my hand, which I use to stroke him. Every glide down to his balls and back up again makes me wetter, especially as he tilts his head back, closes his eyes, and grinds out his pleasure.
Time for another first, I think, gingerly giving his swollen tip a quick peck with my lips.
The look he shoots me is pure torture.
If you’re gonna suck, woman, then do it, his eyes say.
For a second, I hesitate, squeezing the full, sweet length of him.
Oh, I’ve given head before. But with Jean-Paul, it was overly awkward and over too fast, and now I just want to know how a real man reacts to my lips.
I find out a moment later, opening wide to engulf his seething length.
Quinn growls, fisting my hair, urging me on with just the right tension.
I do my best. I take him faster, finding my rhythm. I don’t even know if I make it halfway down his steel, but Lord, do I try.
I love how his chest billows out when my tongue finds the skin just under his crown.
I love how he stiffens, swelling around my lips, releasing one long growl as his hips move slowly, meeting my pace, using my mouth like it was always made to be used.
And holy hell do I love the thrill when he uses me for several breathless minutes until he pulls away, just when I think he might come.
It’s a little disappointing that he doesn’t—at first.
But then he draws me up for a kiss, wraps his arms so tight around my back, and lays me down, centering his well-teased hard-on against my pussy.
A half stroke of his hips has me crying out. I realize I’m feeling the head of his cock against my clit, so devilishly close to what we both need.
“Quinn,” I whimper, breaking the kiss that smothers me. “Quinn, please. I want you inside me.”
For a second, his hand caresses my face. Those feral green eyes brighten, alive with this animalistic need, something wild he’s tried to hold back for so long—and now I’ve just given my permission.
Oh. My. God.
“You know how many times I’ve jacked off to this, Tory?” he whispers, his voice like sandpaper. “This very second? Both of us naked, tangled, having you under me, my dick ready to split you apart...”
“Quinn, yes.” I run my ankles up his calves, teasing him, wishing he’d do all that and more.
Not just because it’s what he deserves, but because I’ll die like this if he doesn’t.
“Tory, fuck,” he growls, his hips rolling back.
I spend a breathless second worried he’s having second thoughts.
But then—oh, then—his hips roll forward, perfectly aligned with my body, slowly feeding his pulsing tip into my depths.
Quinn tries to go slow, but I don’t let him when I push back, taking him fully into me.
Panting, fingers tangled in his hair, every inch of him inside me, I see the very instant Quinn loses the last shred of his control.
He’s already in to the hilt, his balls resting on my ass, when he makes this sharp jerk, sinking deeper, showing me I’m unmistakably his.
Forever more.
Because if I thought his hand owned me, if I thought I lost myself in his kisses...
I didn’t have a clue what was coming.
Every frenzied stroke, every slash of his hips, every time his teeth find my throat in these hot, wicked kisses brand me for life.
Hell yes, I’m his.
His as he makes me feel every punishing thrust, training my body to accommodate him.
His as his pubic bone grinds against my clit, his strokes coming harder and deeper, making me clench around his length for dear life.
His as I’m racked with a bestial pleasure I never dared imagine, every limb pinched to his body, trying to scream because I flipping can’t.
He’s made me this breathless.
He’s made me this wanton.
He’s made me a toy as I rasp out a breathless screech, coming for the first time with his cock still pumping like mad, his body just a streak of tattooed muscle above me.
I’m so many levels of gone I might never come back.
I’m coming, gasping, groaning, raking my nails down his back in a fever.
He gives back an even faster rhythm, even harder strokes, wringing every bit of pleasure out of me.
And just when I think I’m done and spent, his steady thrusts start again, reminding me we’re only done when he says so.
I want to feel him come inside me so bad.
I’m driven half insane, imagining the heat, the thought of him pouring into me, taking his release from my flesh.
“Quinn,” I whimper, barely recognizing my own voice as I try to match his rhythm.
“Almost there, darlin’,” he strangles out, his throat tight with pleasure.
I’m going to be brutally sore come morning between the silks and this wilder workout, but right now?
Now, the only thing that matters is this mess of limbs and so many hot, rampant kisses I know I won’t last.
Every tight pitch of his hips brings me closer, a merciless, machine-like friction designed to ignite the fuse in my core.
Oh, hell, I’m going to come again, just as soon as he—
“Tory, fuck,” he pants. “Gonna come inside you, baby girl.”
“Yes!” I hiss, the last coherent word I get out before it happens.
My whole reality shatters as he pins me down, kisses me with thunder on his tongue, and throws his f
ull force into me, pushing my ass deep into the mattress, right before his cock swells and molten heat washes over me from the inside out.
Call me marked. Wrecked. Ruined. Reborn.
Call me a thousand outrageous names and filthy adjectives and they still won’t be enough to describe the moment Quinn Faulkner floods his seed into me with a snarling crescendo, a wave of tense muscle, and this animal relief carved across his face in sheer release.
I don’t come this time.
I go supernova.
The sensation rocketing through me as my release joins his can’t be anything less than unadulterated, sexy nirvana.
Instinct binding me to this beautiful beast of a man who strains through every jerk of his body, filling me to overflowing, each thick rope he hurls into my depths making me come a little harder.
Even when he’s done, he stays rooted in me, kissing me softly again and again, playfully drawing my tongue out and then chasing it back into my mouth.
I’m almost crying when I run my hand across his cheek, loving his rough stubble, loving this, loving him.
The only man who’s ever been worthy of my heart.
The only protector I’ve ever had.
Of all the amazing things that unfold tonight—and keep unfolding when we slip apart—resting in each other’s arms, I know what blindsides me the most.
It’s this undeniable sense that life will never, ever be the same.
Sorry, Gran.
Turns out those flings, affairs, and yes—even nighttime nibbles, ugh—come with major cases of feelings, altered lives, and so many unpredictable ripple effects I’m already trembling.
16
Almost Goat To Eden (Faulkner)
By the third evening since I started taking Tory Three Names to bed, you’d have to beat me off her with a crowbar.
I swear to God, I’ve never wanted to give pleasure as bad as I want to deliver it to Tory in buckets.
She’s never been treated the way she deserves, loved the way she ought to be loved, worshiped from head to toe with my tongue, my hands, and every wicked inch of me intent on keeping her fulfilled.
I could tell she was starved the first time I brought her off with my hands.
And tonight, after we’re back from the Neuman place to check on the goats and I’ve spent a few frustrating hours trying to draw more info out about Pickett without much luck, I dive right into the one thing I can still control.
What happens with my best friend, my obsession, and the hottest angel ever come to Earth. I think we’ve got ourselves a slice of Eden.
Feels like it as I slowly lay her down on my bed.
My breath catches at how fucking gorgeous she is. Her skin glows, flawless except for this adorable mole on her neck, which adds a splash of character.
Her trim shape is a perfect balance of lean muscle and firm flesh, topped with auburn curls I’ve come dangerously close to pulling out of her head when we’re really going at it.
I run a hand up her arm, across her shoulder, along the side of her face.
Then, leaning down, I find that strawberry mouth and take every last bit of it.
“I knew this is what would happen if I ever touched you,” I whisper against her lips. “Knew I wouldn’t be able to stop.”
She giggles, a musical sound that just makes me harder.
“It’s what I hoped would happen.” Looping her arms around my neck, she kisses me. “Now, about those promises you made at the Neuman place...”
I grin, shrugging like I’ve got no idea what she’s talking about.
It’s become this little game, teasing each other with promises, ever since I talked myself up the first time. Damn glad I delivered.
It wasn’t easy.
Not with how hard I fought to hold myself back from coming the instant I slipped inside her.
I kiss my way down her neck, adding the hint of teeth I know she loves.
“What promises are those? Jog a man’s memory.”
She lets out a little moan.
While trailing kisses across her shoulder blade, I grasp the waistband of her shorts, and as I kiss my way down her torso, I slip the shorts over her hips, straight down her thighs.
She’s wearing a lacy pair of panties today, pink with a tiny black bow on the elastic.
All dressed up with no place to go—except where my mouth takes her.
Adorable.
Growling, I tug them lower, noticing how wet they feel. It’s beautifully obscene how responsive she is to every kiss, every caress, every filthy word I whisper in her ear.
Of course it sends my cock into a manic frenzy, throbbing with need.
Not yet.
Not fucking yet.
Soon, I’ll be inside her, scratching my itch, but first I want her to come on my mouth.
I run a finger over her pussy lips, trying not to shudder. Just like her namesake, she’s all peach sweetness down there, and in less than a week I’ve become addicted to her nectar.
A soft moan soars out of her the instant I graze her clit.
My cock jerks at the greedy way she arches up, pressed against my hand, giving up another throaty moan, this time louder.
“This got anything to do with those promises I made?” I ask, grinning.
Fuck, do I love how her eyes roll.
“Oh, oh yes,” she whines.
My knuckle presses against her clit, adding wicked pleasure, and I nearly come spontaneously at how her body trembles just for me.
It’s a wild thing when a man takes control like this, binding it in soft sighs and frenzied flesh.
“Quinn!” she half groans out my name. “That feels so...so...”
“Good?” I ask, chuckling. “I’m hoping that’s why you can’t speak, darlin’.”
She digs her hands into the comforter and her hips rise up.
“Beyond good.”
Music to my ears.
I go down on her then, sealing my mouth around her clit, sucking till she’s pumping her wet heat against me, hard and fast and reckless.
Just a little tease, a warm-up before my mouth moves to her folds. Then she’s splayed open, dripping, baring her sticky sweetness for my tongue like this rare wine.
Too flowery sounding? I don’t give a single fuck.
I’m not exaggerating when I say I could eat this pussy morning, noon, and night.
She tastes so good it ought to be illegal.
Makes for a savage aphrodisiac, too, and the more I taste, the harder I ache.
I’m panting, damn near growling as my tongue fucks her from the inside out, fighting back mindless lust with all my might.
I’ll get my reward in the end, even if it feels like it’ll take an eternity at the moment.
This is for her.
Completely.
I lick, suck, and torment her with my tongue, pushing my whole mouth in deep, making her feel the scratch of my scruff on every last bit of her thighs.
It doesn’t take long before those moans become breathless hitches.
And she’s shouting my name, her fingers pressed against my head, digging at my scalp, but I’ll be damned if I’ll stop for anything.
“Quinn, Quinn, you’re about to make me—”
Yeah, darlin’.
I know.
There’s my cue to push my face in even harder, lick back up to her clit, and pull that nub between my teeth while it gets one good tongue lash after another.
Just when her legs are starting to shake, I do it.
Carefully, I hoist her up, throw her legs over my shoulders, and carry her across the room. She’s held up and perched on me while I hold her midair, pinning her sweet ass to the wall, securing her so my face can go to town.
I love how she thought I was out of tricks, and I was just gonna finish her in bed.
The surprise turns into a delight as she goes back to the brink in no time, shuddering, grinding her soaked cunt against my face.
And when her body goes rigid, leg
s vibrating on my shoulders, feet kicking my back, pure electricity shooting through her with every feral tongue stroke, I get what I want.
I drink my fill of Tory Three Names long and deep.
I get fucking drunk on her scent, her cream, her shrill whimpers.
Her everything.
I make her pleasure last till her body goes limp, her back flat against the wall, and she’s gasping for air. Her nails dig into my scalp, trying to hold her balance.
That’s when I look up and catch a scene stolen from heaven—the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen peeking out behind a tangle of auburn hair splashed over her face.
Holy shit.
She’s a hot mess, no thanks to yours truly.
More importantly, she’s my hot mess, and fuck, do I love it.
When she’s finally breathing again, I help get her feet back on the ground, then fold her in a tight embrace so we can kiss.
“How? How do you do this to me?” she asks, pushing her little hand into mine, pulling me playfully back toward the bed.
“Because I know what you need, Peach.” Unbuttoning my jeans, I know what I need, too, and it ain’t gonna wait any longer. I kick off my jeans and boxers, then pull off my shirt as I climb into bed with her, finding my place between her legs.
“I’m that predictable? Sad.” She gives me a mock-pout, pursing her lips.
“Hardly,” I tell her, brushing my lips over hers. “If finding new ways to make the hottest woman I’ve ever had in my bed come like a rocket means predictable, sign me the hell up. Just because I know you’ll blow like the prettiest firecracker ever made every time doesn’t make it any less enjoyable, woman.”
For a second, she laughs, new redness painting her cheeks.
Sooner or later, she’s gonna get used to flattery, too, but I can’t blame her eyes as they drift to the angry spike jutting out below my waist.
“Good Lord, Quinn.” She’s staring at my hard-on. “You’re so big.”
My ego grows three times bigger, even as I fight the urge to laugh at her comment and her pink cheeks.
She must’ve seen it up close at least a dozen times by now, and she still acts like I just descended out of the sky with a dick sculpted by Zeus.
Hey, I’ll be the first to admit, there are worse things a woman can say about a dude’s equipment. And as long as this tool gets to go happily to work soon...