Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(89)
I lower my upper body, leaving my ass up and practically right in his face. My forehead resting on the cool pillow, I let out a deep exhale, waiting to feel him stretch me. His cock rubs down the seam of my ass, then he taunts me with the tip pressed to my pussy. My hips roll involuntarily, enough to feel the head of his cock slip inside, and he inhales sharply through his teeth. Doing my best to make him come undone, I push back against the bruising grip he has on my hips. Hopefully, I’ll get him sunk deep enough that he loses control and fucks me senseless.
Clearly able to read my mind, he pulls out, leaving me even more needy and desperate. “Tough luck, baby girl. I warned you I was relentless.”
Denver plunges three fingers deep inside, and I slam my fists down on the bed. A small, amused puff of air escapes his mouth at my temper tantrum, and his thumb briefly touches the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, encouraging me to spread wider. To give him everything.
“Denver,” I whine, nearly collapsing to the bed.
He laughs. Fucking laughs. “Should I give you what you want?”
There’s no sense in even saying yes, because he’s going to ignore it until I say the damn word. So rather than wasting my breath, I groan into the pillow. My legs are shaking uncontrollably, and I’m incredibly tempted to quit the game so he’ll finally give me what I want. He has me ready to climb a wall.
But my competitive streak kicks in, and I reach between my legs, joining his hand—touching my clit in time with his undulating fingers.
“Fuck, Blair. Your pussy’s squeezing my knuckles together.” His teeth sink into my backside with desperation. He kisses, nips, sucks at my skin.
Then with a tenderness that takes my breath away, creating momentary panic, his tongue makes barely-there contact with my asshole. The sensation’s unlike any I’ve experienced, and when I finally allow myself a new breath, I relax into the swirling of his tongue over the intimate area.
Feeling the shift in my body language, he breathlessly asks, “Does that feel good?”
“Don’t stop,” I whisper back, nodding like a broken bobblehead, body trembling with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.
Blush creeps from my chest to my cheeks when I think about what he’s doing. But the way his tongue is bringing me bliss in skilled, rhythmic motion makes it too hard to tell him to stop. I clench the sheets under my head, pushing my hips back to force his fingers into perfect position, while he continues his assault on my senses. In one smooth motion, he replaces his fingers with the cool silicone of my toy, hitting my G-spot and rocketing a vibration through my entire body.
“Fuck, I’m going to—” I can’t finish the sentence, because I’m suddenly on the brink of ecstasy. Overwhelmed with pleasure in so many places at once, the most intense orgasm of my life builds at the base of my spine, and I moan his name into the musky cabin air.
“Mmmm,” he hums an agreement against my asshole, and I fall apart. Toppling to the bed with a convulsion that has me breathless and clutching at the sheets for dear life, I rip the toy from between my legs with a relieved gasp for air. My nerve endings are shot, and I might be dying, but what a fucking incredible way to go out.
And this fucking man. Slips a hand under my body, still drunk on the post-orgasm glow, and touches me with the insistence of back-to-back orgasms. But it’s too much. My clit’s sore and uncomfortably sensitive, the veins in his thick cock are dark purple and bulging, and I need him inside me before I wither away.
“You win.” I rip his arm away from me. “Fuck me. I want the fucking ice cream. Neapolitan.”
“Okay.” He smiles, instantly moving away from my ragged body. Then pads over to the tiny kitchenette.
“But—” I start as he pops open the freezer door and pulls out a literal tub of ice cream. Standing completely naked in the dim light, he holds it up triumphantly, a devilish grin spread across his face.
In my wildest dreams, I wouldn’t have expected my face to fall when looking at ice cream. But even after so many orgasms I’ve lost count—despite my legs being too tired to hold my own body up, and my muscles spasming at random—I’m still fucking desperate for this man.
I frown. “I thought…”
His nose scrunches up with a broad smile, and he tosses the ice cream back in the freezer before taking a running leap at the bed. “I’m just fucking with you. That is your reward for afterward. But I couldn’t resist the opportunity—you played yourself by choosing Neapolitan as your word.”
“Denver Wells, I swear to God.” I side-eye him. “Fuck me.”
Propping my ankles up on his shoulders, he slips his thick cock between my thighs, settling against my damp skin. Then he slaps it on my pussy, forcing a throaty whimper from me.
“I can’t fucking take it when you make that noise.” He notches the head at my entrance, and he bites my calf while pushing into me in a slow, smooth motion. “Fuuuuck.”
Despite my weary body, I prop myself up on my elbows and stare as his cock slides perfectly in and out of me. Filling me to the hilt, then slipping out covered in my arousal.
“You like watching the way you stretch around me?” He thrusts forward with more power, forcing my head to loll back.
“The perfect fit.” I reach down to feel where our bodies meet. Where his shaft is pumping in and out with ease.