Hard and Fast (Fast Track #2)(51)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“Because we don’t know what else to say?” Imogen hadn’t even noticed, which was interesting because usually she noticed everything.

“Yet another reason to put my tongue to better use.” Now he was tugging on her hips, trying to get her to scoot forward on his chest.

Imogen was sitting up at his urging, but was looking around the tent, wondering how she could manage the position he wanted without a headboard. “I don’t have anything to hold on to,” she told him.

Ty took her hands and placed them on her br**sts. “Hold these.”

She laughed. “That’s not going to give me balance.”

“But it looks good.” His eyebrows went up and down as he gave her a naughty look. “Rub your ni**les a little.”

“No. I don’t think any of this is going to work, Ty.” Maybe it would physically, but for some reason she felt awkward and self-conscious.

He didn’t even bother to respond. He just yanked her forward until her thighs were on either side of him. Spreading her apart, he slid his tongue along her. It was an intimate position, one that surrounded his head with her body, and left her sitting up, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

One of his hands snaked up and covered hers, his thumb rubbing across her beaded nipple. “We can change positions if you really want to,” he murmured between flicks of his tongue.

Imogen almost said yes. She wasn’t used to being so out there in the air, so to speak. But then she hesitated. “Do you like this position?”

“I like looking up at you. I like seeing you in the power position, taking what you like. But I want you comfortable. Hell, I want you more than comfortable. I want you moaning and writhing and coming all over me.”

That was a good plan. Imogen closed her eyes and took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. What difference did it make how her body was positioned? Would a woman who was truly confident in her sexuality hesitate to sit up when a man was offering to give her o**l s*x? Of course not, and Imogen wanted to be that woman. She wanted to stop thinking and just feel.

So she sat up and shut down her mind, concentrating on the sensation of Ty between her thighs, coaxing her body to desire. He was incredibly good at it, hitting her in just the right spots, with just the right pressure, kicking up her breathing into panting.

“Lift up a little,” he murmured.

“Lift what up?” she asked. Was she smothering him? That wasn’t a hot thought.

“Your tail.”

Never having had her backside referred to as her tail, Imogen found that rather oddly endearing. Not wanting to deprive the man of all his oxygen, she obeyed immediately.

But it became immediately clear that air circulation hadn’t been his concern when his finger slipped into her from behind and plucked her G spot. That yanked a loud moan from her. With his tongue on her and his finger stroking inside at such a sexy angle, she reached that place she always did with Ty, where she thought about nothing but their bodies and mutual pleasure. That place where just about nothing would be a bad idea, where she felt hot and desirable and wanted him, it, everything.

Rubbing her ni**les, she dipped her head forward and bit her lip as tightness built inside her. She wasn’t going to be able to maintain the position very long without pitching forward onto him, but while she was still upright, she was going to enjoy it. When he sucked her clit, she did both, groaning with ecstasy and dropping her hands down onto the sleeping bag on either side of him, needing something to hold on to, to ground her.

He started moving his finger in and out, sliding her own slickness all along between her cheeks, back and forth, the sensation erotic and exciting. Then his finger slipped inside her again, but with a whole different destination. Imogen sucked in a breath and looked down at him.

“Are you . . . ?” She couldn’t say it, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It felt good. Better than good. His finger there, and his tongue inside her . . . she was shocked, titillated, stunned at how it heightened the pleasure of what he was doing with his mouth.

He paused to ask, “Should I stop?” His breath tickled the hair above her clitoris.

She shook her head, speechless, then realized he couldn’t see her. “Uh-uh,” she managed.

Ty wiggled his finger at the same time his tongue went deep.

Imogen squeezed the sleeping bag and shot into an orgasm, the hard, shuddering, tight kind where she did hold her breath, and her vision went spotty. Where every muscle in her body tightened while she let the tremors rush over her and take her under.

After a minute, Ty slowly pulled back his finger and mouth and said, “Breathe, babe.”

Instead, she exhaled, and tilted sideways, falling onto the sleeping bag in a heap. Then she dragged in air, shoving her hair out of her eyes, her heart racing and legs shaking. “Wow. This is the perfect time to use that catchphrase OMFG.”

“What does that stand for?” Ty shifted so he was facing her, and ran his fingers down her arm.

“Oh, my f**king God. Totally blasphemous, but when you use the acronym, it softens the blow.” She stared at the ceiling of the tent and tried to remember her name. “And in this case, utterly applies.”

Ty laughed softly. “Good. Now on your stomach.”

“I can’t move.”

“Yes, you can.” He lightly smacked her bottom and said, “Roll over. Lie flat, and cross your ankles.”

“Excuse me?” But she was already doing it, rolling in a lazy, satisfied flop onto her stomach and shifting her hands above her head. She could fall asleep at any given second.

Until he moved over her and pushed inside her.

Ty loved that first push into Imogen. She always made the same sound—a little gasp of appreciation—and that totally turned him on. As did the feel of her wet and willing body surrounding him. He couldn’t get enough of her. He loved touching her body, loved making her insensible, got off on the sight of her biting her lip, her eyes half-closed, the beauty of her when she snapped her head back and had a really hard orgasm.

Now looking down at her, her body relaxed, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her creamy pale skin smooth beneath his fingers as he held her and thrust into her, Ty felt something big and strong and shocking rise up in him. He wanted to pleasure her, worship her, care for her, protect her. Be the one who had those denim blue eyes trained on him while she had every orgasm. He wanted to be with her.

And instead of scaring the shit out of him, the thought had him thrusting harder, faster, groans sneaking out as he started to lose control. She had very obediently crossed her ankles, which kept him in position, and she raised her hips very slightly to meet him, a hot and heady subtle invitation. He suspected he was doing things with Imogen she hadn’t experienced with other men, and that only added to his own passion.