Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3) by Tara Wyatt (interesting books to read txt) 📕

He started kissing a path down her body, closing his mouth over one nipple while massaging her other breast. Need, thick and hot like humidity, pressed down on her, making her unable to do anything but feel. Everything with Max was so intense. Maybe because she’d wanted him for so long, or maybe because that was just who he was. How he operated.

He switched his attention to her other nipple, sucking it into his mouth. She moaned, her back bowing off of the bed as pleasure scorched her, making her shake. Making her throb. Making her so incredibly greedy for him that it was like a gnawing hunger inside her.

He moved down over her stomach, raining hot, open-mouthed kisses on her skin. On her hips, on the tops of her thighs. Each kiss made her skin tingle with awareness, with a glowing heat. Sucking in a shaky breath, she tried to imprint this—all of this—on her brain. The feeling of Max’s mouth on hers, on her skin. The scent of him. The feel of him, all hard muscle and warm skin, pressed against her. The intensity flashing in his eyes. A part of her still couldn’t believe that this was happening and she felt as though she was trying to catch every single second like sand slipping through her fingers.

What was tonight to him? He’d said that he’d thought about her like this so many times. What did that mean? What would happen tomorrow, after the sun came up? After they’d crossed a line they couldn’t uncross? She didn’t have answers to any of these questions, and her ability to think vanished when Max started working her panties down over her hips, her legs, not stopping until they were on the floor.

She raised herself up onto her elbows and his eyes met hers as he licked the seam of her thigh.

“I’m gonna find out what you like, Willa. And then I’m going to do it over and over again.” He licked the other seam and then parted her with his thumbs, inhaling deeply. “Fucking heaven,” he murmured roughly, his gaze returning to hers. He kissed her pussy, a slow, almost sweet kiss, before giving her one long, teasing lick, his tongue flicking at her clit. She let out a shuddery moan, and he did it again, watching her intently. Then he worked his lips over her clit in a sucking kind of kiss that made her hips buck. He banded an arm across her hips, holding her down.

“You like when I suck on this pretty little clit, don’t you?” he asked, doing it again before she could answer. She made a strangled sound and nodded jerkily. “Let’s see what else you like.” He gave her pussy a deep kiss and then licked her, the flat of his tongue dragging upward from her entrance to her clit.

“Oh, fuck, Max,” she moaned, everything inside her coiling tight. His eyes were still on her, studying her with a blazing intensity, taking in her every miniscule reaction. He did it again, and again, working her with his tongue and she felt the first sparks of an orgasm start to sizzle deep inside.

“You like that, too,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He did it again, even slower, and she curled her fingers into the soft fabric of the duvet, needing something to anchor herself when she inevitably exploded into a hundred thousand pieces.

“I like everything you do with your mouth,” she panted out, her pulse jackhammering in her temples.

“Mmm,” he rumbled out, then dragged his lips up and down her slit before returning to her clit and sucking it back into his mouth. He swirled his tongue over it once, twice and then she couldn’t take any more. Her orgasm burst over her in hot, heavy throbs, making her legs shake and her hips thrash against his hold.

“Max!” She screamed out his name as he continued to suck her throbbing clit, sharpening the pleasure spiraling through her. He didn’t stop what he was doing, only slowly gentled his sucks by gradual degrees, calculated and precise, before finally pulling away when she was perfectly wrung out.

Oh, holy shit. Max Prescott had just gone down on her and given her the most incredible orgasm of her life. She felt warm and languid and sated, as though she’d had a couple of glasses of champagne. As though she’d spent the day lying in the sun.

Still watching her with a gleaming ferocity in his eyes, he slid two fingers inside her and curled them up and pressed, exerting gentle pressure. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she let out a loud moan, so guttural and raspy she barely recognized her own voice.

“I think you like this, too,” he said, his voice gritty with arousal. He rubbed his fingers in a slow circle, over and over again until her entire world was nothing but sparkling pleasure. “And what about this?” he asked, increasing his pressure and stroking her in a beckoning motion. “Do you like when I touch you like this, Willa?”

She made a crazed sound, almost like she was speaking in tongues, nonsensical syllables falling from her lips. A sensation she’d never felt before was building inside her, a kind of heavy pressure that was almost too intense to bear. When she’d come before, she’d felt tight and achy, but with his fingers inside her, she felt as though every single one of her nerve endings was being squeezed in the most delicious way. She felt like a dam, holding back an overflowing river, just trying to hang on.

He kept stroking her, his fingers working over that tender spot inside her, over and over again, and the pressure built and built until she felt as though she were going to break in two. She wanted to lean into it and run from it at the same time,