Blood Price (The Blankenships Book 5) Read Free Page A

clenched viciously. “Oh God, yes,” she cried out, and then he went directly for her clit, pulling it into his mouth savagely, teasing at the little nubbin of flesh with teeth and suction, and she was so close, so incredibly close, but she didn’t want to come yet, she wasn’t ready yet. She pulled her hand free, and pushed at his chest with her hand. He came free from her, his expression confused, until she brushed her fingers, thick with the juices of her cunt, over his mouth. His expression was instantly greedy, and he turned his mouth to her fingers, suckling them ferociously, groaning and grunting with the pleasure of it. She’d meant to give herself a second to calm down, but every needy sound of him shot straight to her eager, swollen body, and she found herself crying out in time with him, her hips fucking the air as he cleaned her.
     
    She took her fingers away and wound them around his short hair as best as she could, and he took the signal for what it was. He dove back to her pussy, devouring her with eager thrusts, sliding down just a little to fuck her with his tongue. She was wild, her body moving in instinctive ways that she was only controlling in the most vague sense of the word. Behind his back, his hands were so tightly woven together that his knuckles grew pale. The sight overwhelmed her, and her body started to pulse and throb against his mouth. He abandoned the core of her and pulled her clit into his mouth again, suckling her in a way that drove the incipient orgasm to a higher level, pulling the scream from her mouth and leaving nothing but a series of airy gasps as she came and came and came. When it finally broke over her, the arm supporting her gave out, leaving her to sprawl across the bed, boneless and still wanting. “Fuck me,” she whispered. “Oh please, fuck me.”
     
    “I can’t with my hands behind my back,” he murmured, “at least, not like this.”
     
    “You can use your hands,” she said, distracted by the aftershocks burning through her, and wanting him buried in her to feel what he’d done to her.
     
    He stood, positioning himself between her thighs, and then paused. “My tests came back,” he said. “All good.”
     
    “Mine too,” she said. She met his eyes, and saw warmth there. She smiled, and found the energy to press herself against him, where his wet and eager tip was pressed against her. “We’re good.”
     
    He didn’t ask again. He ran his hands down her sides, tilting her hips to the angle he liked best, and carefully, slowly, drove into her.
     
    The thickness of him made her arch and groan. It was different, somehow. She’d expected it to be different, and had always heard stories about how much better it was without condoms. She’d always figured that it was a bunch of bullshit fed to girls by guys who wanted to bareback without responsibility—after all, if she got knocked up or something, it was her fault, she wanted it. But there was something—not better, but so much more. He felt like satin wrapped around velvet as he split her open. She was much more aware of the thickness of him, the sheer volume of cock that was buried in her.
     
    She forced her eyes open to look for the first time at the man she loved—and found him with his forehead beaded with sweat, and his lips moving fast, muttering—numbers? “Are you—are you seriously doing baseball statistics right now?”
     
    “Pi,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “I’ve got to fifty places—but—Christ on a crutch you feel amazing, and you were screaming before, and my control is shot and—I didn’t know it would feel like this—”
     
    The only possible solution was to unhook her heels, wrap her legs around him to get a little leverage, and drive him into her. He groaned, and she thought he would come unwound in that moment—but he put one finger on her sternum, and she paused. “Mistress,”  he whispered. “May I ask for something?”
     
    “You may.”
     
    “I