Mocha Latte (Silk Stocking Inn #3) by Tess Oliver, Anna Hart Page B

my pussy.
    I pulled in a shuddering breath and tightened my hold on the top edge of the seat.
    He dropped down to his stomach and brought his head between my thighs. His warm breath tickled my pussy and inner thighs. “Fucking beautiful,” he groaned as he moved his mouth so close to my pussy, I could feel the lightest scrape of his beard stubble.
    I nearly startled off the seat as he used his fingers to spread me open wider. A low, deep chuckle rumbled between my thighs. “Relax, baby. It’ll be that much more fun.”
    I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I felt near to naked and completely exposed. But Jackson made me comfortable. I wanted him there between my thighs. I needed him there. His tongue started slowly, with a teasing flick across my clit, a small intimate touch that made me tighten my grip even more.
    His big hand cupped beneath my ass as he lifted me to his hungry mouth. His tongue coaxed me to arch my back so that my pussy would be tighter against his mouth. He growled in approval against my tender flesh. One hand held me securely in place as the other teased my throbbing clit to a frenzy. And all the while, his tongue made love to my pussy as if I was producing a sweet nectar for him to taste.
    I scooted my feet closer to my bottom, wanting to move even higher and harder against his mouth. Every inch of me trembled with desire. I needed to finish this, to come in a glorious, mind blowing orgasm or the disappointment would be devastating.
    I released my hold on the seat and curled my fingers in his thick dark hair, holding him against me. “Yes, Jackson, please.” My tender plea floated up and disappeared in the field of stars above.
    One final stroke of his finger over my clit and my thighs clamped shut as my pussy convulsed in hot waves around his tongue. I rocked against him, nearly close to tears with the sheer intensity of it all.
    Jackson rose up over me. He reached down with one hand and had his pants open and pushed down to reveal his cock, a massive erection that took away the breath I’d been trying to catch.
    Jackson gazed down at me with an expression that was half questioning and half lust.
    “Yes.” I knew what he wanted to hear. “Yes, Jackson. I want this.”
    He took hold of my legs and scooted me down farther on the seat. He leaned down over me. The heat radiating from his body warmed me in the cool night air. He lowered his mouth to mine and with the same hand that had held me steady against his mouth, he lifted my pussy to meet him. His self-control now shattered, he pushed into me hard and fast, producing that sweet pussy ache that came after an orgasm.
    I’d never climaxed twice in a row, but something about this man made me think it wasn’t impossible.
    And it seemed he expected it. He rose up on his strong arms and thrust into me, lifting his hips each time so that his cock penetrated the deepest, most untouched place inside of me. With each movement, the friction against my still aching clit sent tingling sensations through me.
    “Hold me tight with your pussy, baby,” he said in a low, raspy voice. “I want to feel you holding my cock as I slide into you.”
    I concentrated on the muscles between my legs and my pussy as I contracted them, squeezing them around his erection as he dove deep inside of me, seemingly knowing my most intimate places even more than me.
    His long lashes drifted shut. “That’s it, Becca. I can feel you as if you’re stroking me with your tight pussy. So fucking beautiful.”
    I reached for the edge of the seat, something to hold onto, something to keep me from floating right up into the night sky. I held him securely between my legs, feeling each hot inch of him as he rocked against me, filling me completely.
    Then that tiny trickle of sensation, those first few seconds of reaching the front edge of climax caused me to grip him even harder with my pussy.
    He sensed what was happening and kept the rhythm. “That’s it, baby. Come for me