Melt For Him(8)

By: Lauren Blakely



Her breath caught. “Yes.”

“Then we’d better get your clothes off.”

Megan started to unzip her skirt, but Becker shook his head. “Where are my manners? A woman like you—I’m not just going to fuck you. I’m going to pleasure every inch of you. I’m going to bury my face between those beautiful legs first. I’m not going to skip over that part.”

She closed her eyes and gasped. God, she wanted that. She wanted that softness of his tongue, that delirious sensation of his lips on her. More than that, she wanted the letting go of control that came with that sort of touch, with this kind of man devouring her. She needed something that felt good and only good.

“Yes. That. I like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you do?”

“Well, I think I might, but really, we’re going to have to see, aren’t we?”

“Challenge accepted,” he said, as he pushed her skirt up to her waist, deftly removed her panties in one swift move, and placed his strong hands on the inside of her thighs, spreading her wide. His eyes blazed as he stared at her, so ready for him.

“I never come quickly, so let’s see what you can do.”

“That only makes me more determined to taste you coming on my tongue in less than a minute.” Then he stopped talking, and his lips were on her, a rumbling sound from his throat saying he liked what he was doing. “So wet,” he murmured, and the mood shifted, their playful banter disappearing, replaced by true need.

“I’ve been turned on since you first touched me,” she said, letting go of the teasing because her obvious desire was the honest truth.

She was molten for him.

He swept his tongue through her wetness, kissing her so sensuously that the world narrowed to only this absolute pleasure he wanted to bring her. As she arched her back, he cupped her ass in his hands, tilting her hips closer to his face. He licked and kissed her, groaning hungrily, as if nothing else had ever tasted so good. Flicking his tongue against her swollen clit, he stroked her with a finger, and the twin sensations sent her soaring.

She gasped, her sharp breath turning into a long, low moan of desire. His mouth was out of this world. His tongue was epic. His touch was like nothing she’d ever felt before. Pressing his hands gently but firmly on the inside of her thighs, he spread her legs farther, and she let him, her knees falling open easily, offering him complete access with that magic mouth he possessed. She wanted to be vulnerable to him, to give her body to him, because he knew precisely what to do with her.

Her breathing grew more intense as he traced her with his skilled tongue, pressing against her clit at just the right moment, then sliding a finger inside her in a way that sent her to another plane of pleasure entirely.

To one that vibrated with bliss. That hummed with desire.

“That feels so good,” she managed to say in between short breaths, and she was no longer playful, teasing Megan. She was the Megan who wanted to let go, who wanted to give in to pleasure, to the delicious sensation of not being in control. She wanted the connection, the closeness, the intensity of spreading herself open to him and letting him take charge of her pleasure.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” she said, because he was touching her perfectly, so perfectly that she repeated those words over and over as he tasted her, his mouth bringing her closer to the edge. As his tongue swept up her, circling in the most exquisitely intense motion, she could feel deep in her belly the start of release.

This never happened. She never came quickly. She was a marathoner, not a sprinter, and there were plenty of times when she was a non-finisher.

But now, as his mouth sent her hips arching, her voice gasping, Megan had a feeling that she just might be doing the forty-yard dash. Becker’s finger hit her in a way that made her dizzy with a new form of want. For the first time ever, she felt that wave of release in minutes, an orgasm she didn’t have to work for, one that crashed over her as the intense shocks of pleasure from his tongue and his lips and his hands rocked through her body. She grabbed at his hair, pulling him even closer as she cried out.

She shuddered, flinging her hand over her face, because the feelings that raced through her body were too intense for her to make eye contact. She’d never felt this way before. She’d never been to this zone of bliss. Even though it was just sex—or foreplay, really—it also wasn’t. She’d given herself to him in a moment of intense intimacy, writhing against his mouth, bucking under his tongue. She wanted more of it, more of him, more of this kind of connection.

As Megan moved her hand so she could look at him again, there was no denying the satisfied smile on his face. But there was something sweet there, too, in his dark eyes. He wasn’t just a bang-on-my-chest-I-made-you-come guy. She could tell that a part of him was so damn happy that he’d done this for her. That he’d made her feel as if she had the best O of her life. Because she had, and he’d given it to her.

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