Devil's Fall: Dust Bowl Devils MC by Britten Thorne Page A

sure has hell did no such thing; he hadn’t stopped moving for a moment, and now with him practically draped over her, it was driving her wild.
    One of his hands snaked up and cupped her chin. Slowly, he angled her head and deepened his kiss. She whined, feeling overwhelmed, but he showed no sign of stopping. His lips parted and his tongue slicked across her bottom lip. He grunted hungrily and tasted her again, as if she was something delicious he couldn’t get enough of; as if she were a drug that he craved with his whole being.
    He thrust his tongue inside her mouth and slid it against hers. Desire raged through her veins, stormed at her center and soaked her panties.
    She realized that he just might make his ridiculous claim come true.
    “I want to keep kissing you but I want to suck on your tits, too,” he breathed against her ear. “Choose.”
    What happened to making me work for it? She pushed him down her body and he lifted her shirt, revealing her breasts confined by her lacy floral bra. Kissing him had been too damn intense. She needed to cool down and catch her breath.
    He soon proved that impossible. He slid her bra higher, up around her torso just beneath her armpits, letting her breasts fall free. She knew she had absolutely nothing to be self-conscious about but she couldn’t help holding her breath as he drank her in with his eyes. They were on the smaller side, what if-
    “Fucking perfect,” he growled, cupping them, pushing them together before burying his face between them and breathing her in.
    “Oh.”
    “Don’t believe me?”
    “I believe you.” If nothing else, the man was honest. Painfully so. She watched him as he kissed his way across the tops of her breasts, leaving a hot trail behind. He brushed her nipples with his thumbs gently as he kissed and sucked his way around. He took his time, moving with a deliberate slowness, continuing to stoke the growing fire inside her. She’d never felt anything quite like it. Ex-boyfriends had kissed her before, sure, had played with her breasts, but never with such intent and such focus.
    When he reached one of her nipples, when his tongue swirled around it before he sucked it into the heat of his mouth, she couldn’t hold back the moan that rose to her throat. She wasn’t sure she liked this version of herself - so wanton, teetering just on the edge of losing control. One of her legs move with a mind of its own, bending and slipping over his thighs and tugging him in closer, seeking to pull his weight on top of her. He held back with another deep grunt; he withdrew from her breasts and slid back up her body. “Earn it,” he said through clenched teeth, hovering just over her lips.
    “Gunner,” she said. The sound of his name seemed to inflame him. He lowered himself so one of his legs was between hers and his erection dug into her hip. She bit her lip and fought a losing battle to keep from writhing shamelessly against his thigh.
    He frowned down at her. “What the hell are you holding back for?”
    She shrugged. It was just what she did - sex for her had never been terribly exciting, and she recognized that it was at least partially her own fault. She could get into it, sure, she could make the appropriate sounds and moves. She wouldn’t orgasm but sex was still satisfying in its own way, and she could always get off by herself later on. It was about control. She didn’t like losing it, and no man in her life had ever been able to make her lose it.
    At least, not until Gunner. And it scared her a little.
    “I’m gonna make you come either way but it’ll be a hell of a lot better if you loosen up. Goddamn.”
    “I am loosened up.”
    He leaned in closer and spoke against her ear. “Are you wet?” He nipped her earlobe and groaned, and rocked his hips against her, his thigh pressing harder against her pussy. It sent a shock of pleasure through her. “Answer me. Say it.”
    “I’m wet, Gunner.”
    He snaked a hand between them and