Page 17 of Walk of Shame
My tongue slides between her lips.
Her nails dig into my skin.
My head tilts, deepening the contact, as I become consumed with her mouth. Her taste. The press of her lips. The feel of her tongue.
That same possession that took residence in me that night rears up.
The kiss turns hotter. Wetter. More insistent.
I’m generally an easygoing guy, I like sex fun and playful, but Ashley brings out something insatiable and feral in me.
I grip her tighter.
Our bodies slide together, the contact making us both lose our breaths.
She shifts, lifting up, and my cock nudges between her legs. It’s so fucking perfect. She’s so perfect.
I grip her hip, rocking into her.
She gasps, surging up to meet me.
A frantic, almost desperate quality fuels the melding of our mouths.
Any control I have over the situation is quickly fraying, ready to snap.
Before I end up taking her in public, I rip away.
She pants up at me, her blue eyes glazed and glassy. Her lips swollen.
I suck in air while I try and gain control over my body. I run my thumb over her lower lip, wet and red from the bruising of my mouth.
She’ll wear the evidence of me all day. I like that idea entirely too much.
When I speak my voice is deep. “My conference goes until five today, but I will come looking for you later.”
She shakes her head and whispers, “Please don’t.”
I don’t think she realizes how her fingers tighten on my skin, as though she doesn’t want to let me go.
I trace her mouth with the pad of my thumb, wanting nothing more than to stay with her, right here in this hot, needy place where nothing but the two of us seems to matter. But I have to go. “I will see you later.”
I kiss the no from her lips.
“I’ll find you.” Then I turn and walk away.
