Fall Guy (A Youngblood Book) by Reinhardt, Liz (knowledgeable books to read TXT) 📕

The dark blue of his eyes is barely visible behind the black of his pupil and his mouth is set, straight and tense.

I let my knees fall apart, and he runs his fingers all the way down my inner thigh and higher, just the slightest tickle of a touch. My skin tingles in response to his fingers' gentle movements, but he increases the pressure and his fingers play against the slick, wet, needy center of me. I arch my back and feel his fingers slide inside, then he pulls out with a quick jerk of his hand that leaves me panting and desperate before he slides back in.

"Do you like it?" His voice is low and cracked with the effort of trying to keep calm.

"Yes." My voice hisses between my clenched teeth.

His free hand roams all over my skin, and its rough press leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His hand curls around the back of my neck and pulls my face close, kissing me with almost bruising force as his fingers slide against me in a rhythm that follows the cues of my panting breathing and bucking hips. That persistent rhythm uncoils a tight need burrowed deep in me.

"Winch," I moan, my body so close to the shaking, shuddery release I've wanted for weeks every time I looked his way.

I clamp a hand around his wrist, and he slows down, drawing all the perfect, tremors out until they’re teasing me right to the edge of torture.

He presses his mouth close to my ear, kissing the outer edge. I squeeze my eyes shut, and all my senses hone in on the touch of his fingers and the rough grate of his voice.

"Come for me," he orders.

I shake right at the edge of where I need to be.

The next few words out of his mouth are the trip and twist of a language I don't know, punctuated by a low, long moan.

He switches into English, and once I can comprehend what he's saying, his words rush me toward a total, complete, delicious loss.

"Evan, you are the sexiest girl I've ever been with. I think about you...every day. All day. I can't stop. I've imagined doing this...being with you...doing this to you a thousand times. You're so wet. You're so tight. Come for me. Come," he coaxes, his voice thready and rough.

His hand moves against me, fast and insistent, setting the exact rhythm I'm hoping will never end, but is driving me crazy. My back arches, I twist my hips, I grab his biceps and press my face into the salty skin of his chest.

"Winch! Winch!"

I can't say anything but his name. I can't think anything but his name and him and the way he touches me. And then the tiny, focused place where he's touching my body and making me spin loose has had all it can take, and I shake with a fierce jerk of my body, once, twice, and a third long, gripping time. Then I go limp against him.

He pulls his hand away and drags me close, kissing my face, down my neck, sucking and kissing down my shoulders and arms, and moving in to pull at my nipples with his hot mouth and tongue.

For a few seconds, I feel liquid-boned against him, like I could close my eyes and snuggle into sleep. But the fevered sweep of his hands and the insistent lick of his tongue unleashes the coil of a new build-up, and I find myself ready all over again for him, for whatever he wants and wherever he's going to take this.

Take us.

Completely take us both.

Foreign words slip off his tongue and make my body move against his as if I can actually grasp any of what he's saying. My hands work down to his waist, suddenly irritated beyond words at the clothing still covering him.

I want him out, I want him naked, I want him exposed and with me and mine. All mine.

I flick the button open and drag the zipper down, the metallic zip an instant, frenzied turn-on. His hard-on strains against the thin cotton of his boxer briefs, and his jeans are barely hanging on his narrow hips. I push with my hands, and he moves his hands down to help. It's a tangle of rough and soft cloth, rough and soft hands, our frenzied need to get his clothes off, and the distracting, amazing feel of his skin suddenly there for my greedy taking.

I press his jeans off with my hands, then my feet, and he kicks and peels away until we're both hot and naked, our bodies pressed so close, it's right on the cusp of where we both want to be so badly.

But there's the amazing, mind-blowing feel of these few moments of skin-to-skin perfection buzzing through us, and it’s something we both slow down and savor for a minute. Winch pulls up and looks down the length of our bodies. I follow his gaze, and feel the dizzying, possessive pleasure of seeing his tan skin pressed against mine, the two of us alone and nothing to interrupt us, nothing to worry us, for at least this one magic night.

He shakes his head, still looking down, and loosens a litany of flowing, liquid words that could just as easily be a prayer or a string of curses.

Then his mouth gets busy kissing me, hard, nipping at my lips, catching the skin on my neck between his teeth with gentle bites, grazing down my arm, and sucking in at my breast. His teeth edge on my nipples, and every experience I've ever had with any other guy dissolve as if those memories had been dipped in acid.

It's only Winch. It will only ever be Winch for me, from now on.

I feel the polarizing twist of total euphoria over the fact that I got a chance to know him mixed with dread over the true, but unbelievably heart-breaking, reality that I probably won't be able to hold onto