Last Breath (Hitman #2)(40)
Author: Jessica Clare

“Nothing a bit of superglue won’t fix,” he tells me, and his hand brushes my wet hair off my shoulders.

It feels so good that I turn my face against his neck again and nuzzle him before I even realize what I’m doing. “Mmm.”

Against me, Daniel stiffens. “Regan,” he murmurs. “Baby doll—”

“I know,” I tell him and let my tongue flick against the hot skin of his neck. Truth is, I’m relaxed and loose and I don’t want to lose this moment. Nice, sweet, agreeable Regan Porter would be scandalized, apologize to Daniel, and retreat because that would be expected. But that’s the last thing I want to do. He’s warm and delicious and I’m feeling good in his arms.

I want to keep feeling good. So I slide a little closer to him and let the sheet drop from my breasts. “We’re hugging, right, Daniel?” I say this even as I lean in and bite at his collarbone with my teeth. Ooh, he’s hard and muscled everywhere, and so warm that it’s like snuggling with a heating blanket. “You’re not going to touch me, right?”

“Not unless you tell me to,” he says.

I won’t. I’m not ready for that yet. But I’m feeling a little . . . adventurous. I run my hand up his chest again, avoiding his wound and admiring the warmth of his skin under mine and how there’s not an ounce of fat on him anywhere. He’s pretty, this assassin. If I wasn’t screwed up in the head, I’d be drooling over the sight of him every time I turned around. It’s good that I’m all fucked up, or I’d jump him every chance I got.

My nipples are pressing against his skin now, and to my surprise, it feels good. There’s a low, languid pulsing between my thighs that excites me. I’m aroused for what feels like the first time in forever, and Daniel’s not doing anything but stroking my hair and my shoulders.

He’s safe.

And that’s even more arousing. I shift against him, letting my nipples brush against his skin again, and inhale sharply when it sends a jolt of delicious sensation through a body that I thought was dead to sexual feeling. I slide my hand off of his chest and push it between my thighs, curious.

I’m wet.

Just touching Daniel, snuggling with him, knowing that he’s safe for me to play with is arousing me. “I’m wet, Daniel,” I tell him in a soft voice, sliding my fingers against my pussy, delighting in the feel.

He groans and the sound is like the one in the shower, which makes my inner muscles clench all over again. I look down and the towel at his waist is tenting, his cock responding to my shameless rubbing against him. Or my words. Maybe both.

And he’s not going to touch me. I could rub against him like a cat in heat, and he’s not going to do anything but hug my shoulders because that’s what I want.

I continue to stroke the slick flesh between my thighs, pressing my breasts against his side and licking at his neck. My hips are moving in little circles now, and I shift, sliding one of my fingers deep inside myself and whimpering at the sensation. Oh, masturbatory pleasure, my long-lost friend, how I’ve missed you.

I glide my tongue along Daniel’s neck again and then nip at his ear, pleased to feel a tremor move through him. His hand hasn’t moved from my shoulders, but he’s gripping me a little harder than before, and I’m getting to him. I like that. My hand moves faster between my legs, and I rock down on it, enjoying the sensations moving through me. I look down at his lap, at the towel practically falling off his hips now. His cock is large under the towel. Guys like him that ooze confidence are always big-dicked, aren’t they? You can tell in their swagger.

“You jerked off in the shower, didn’t you?” I ask him, nuzzling my nose against his neck again.

“Hell yeah. You’re fucking sexy as hell,” he says in a low, harsh voice.

“Mmm.” I’m practically purring at the thought, and I rub my breasts against him again, sucking in a breath when my pussy clenches around the finger I’m working in and out of it. “Would you do it again for me?”

“You want me to jerk off again?”

“Mmmmhmm. Right here.” I slide my nose along the tense chords of his neck, aroused by the scent of him. “So I can watch. I won’t touch, though.”

He mutters a ragged “Christ,” and then his hand clamps on my shoulders, even as the other drags the towel away and he grips his cock in his hand. There’s pre-cum on the crown, and I admire the sight of him as he begins to work it in his hand. I’ve seen a lot of dicks in the last few weeks—more than I prefer—and Daniel has a nice one. Thick and meaty, with a nice, bulging crown. The kind that feels good deep inside a girl.

That gives me a shiver, and my finger works harder in my pussy.

I’m rocking my hips as I ride my fingers, and I watch him as he strokes his cock rapidly, hand working his length with an expert grip. I want to come, but I need more. I add my other hand between my legs and begin to play with my clit, my face pressing into his neck the only thing keeping me propped up as I work myself over. It’s still not enough.

“Tell me,” I say to him, “if I had sex with you, would you give me orgasms?”

“Goddamn.” I feel the cords in his neck tense. “You want me to talk dirty to you?”

I nod then swipe my tongue against his neck again. I’m in my own little world right now, nothing but Daniel’s skin and my own hands and the need to come.

“I’d give you the best fucking orgasms, Regan. I’d push my face between those creamy thighs of yours and lick your pussy for hours. I’d spread those sweet little lips of yours and bury my tongue inside you until you were wiggling on it, and then I’d make that little clit of yours pop out for a little attention of its own.” His hands are moving faster on his cock, and I’m fascinated by the way he strokes the head, smoothing pre-cum down his length with a quick, fluid motion, his pumping never ceasing. “I’d tease that clit of yours with the tip of my tongue until you were dripping hot and bathing my face with how much you want me.”

I moan at his words, my fingers working faster in my pussy. My skin is making slick, wet noises with the force of my actions, but I don’t care. I need to come, if only to prove to myself that I can.

“And I’d drink up every last drop,” Daniel tells me. His voice is low and husky, and I feel it vibrating in his neck, against my face that’s still buried in that safe spot at his throat. “And then I’d make you come all over again, to watch your face. And when you’ve come so many times you’re screaming my goddamn name with every touch, I’d throw your legs over my shoulders and fuck the hell out of you.”