Last Breath (Hitman #2)(47)
Author: Jessica Clare

“But with me, it seems like . . .” she trails off.

“That I’m always hard?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Don’t know how to explain it. You turn me on like no one else has ever cranked my chain.”

“Would you really let me tie you up?”

All I hear is genuine curiosity, and I want to feed it until it turns into desire, want, and unrestrained need that she fills at the fount of Daniel.

“Yeah, but I’m going to be honest: I’d be able to get out of any restraint you could think of, so tying me up will be illusory. You trust me?” I hold my breath because none of this is going to work unless she’s fully on board. Regan’s got to be able to embrace her own reactions—but even more, she has to believe that she is safe with me.

Her gaze is downward, and she’s silent. All I can hear is my own heavy breathing that sounds like harsh static on a radio airwave.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” she says finally. “That’s the issue for me. I don’t know what I’ll be able to take or not until I’m there.”

It dawns on me that Regan doesn’t need to trust me; she needs to know that I not only trust her but I’m okay with everything that she does. I need to give myself over to her fully and let her do what I asked—which was use me, take me. I force my breathing to calm. “Here’s my promise: I’m not ever going to get angry for anything you do or don’t do in the bedroom.”

She bites her lip and then passes a hand over the surface of my body, and it’s more erotic than if she had performed a lap dance.

“I’m not sure what I should do. Like, should I take my clothes off?”

Yes please. But this is her show. “Whatever you want.”

She fingers the bottom of her shirt again and then casts a glance upward behind a veil of lashes, looking mysterious and coy but I know it’s her lack of surety. I give her my reckless smile, as if what she does is of no importance. As if I could take it or leave it. As if I wasn’t going to die if she didn’t put a hand on me.

I offer up some suggestions. “You could kiss me. You could let me kiss your sweet pussy. Or you could rub against me.” Or all of the above.

"I’m a little wet," she admits.

Me too.

"Climb on up then and let me kiss you between your legs and get you good and wet. You’d like that, right? Wouldn’t you like my tongue lapping up all that juice?” The invisible restraints against my arms are chafing hard. I want to flip her over and bury my fingers and tongue in that hot, wet cunt but I promised her that I wouldn’t move until she told me I could.

But I’m still going to talk.

"I thought I was in charge?” she mock complains, but I can tell she’s more comfortable.

"You are, baby. I’m throwing out ideas."

Regan tugs off her shirt and then throws a leg over me so that she’s straddling my abdomen. Her damp panties are rubbing against my bare skin. My hands dig into the mattress as I fight the urge to grab her ass. This is so much harder than anything I’ve ever done before. My only outlet right now is my mouth, so I let it fly.

"Oh yeah. I can feel you, sweetheart. I can feel that you are turned on. If you were a little higher you could place one of those teacup breasts into my mouth. I’d love to suck one of your tits until each one is good and hard. Do you think you’d feel that between your legs? I can’t wait until my mouth is all over you and I’ve licked and sucked on every inch of your skin at least twice.”

She runs her hands over my chest, smoothing her palms along the planes of my pectorals and then down to my abdomen. I’ve never been a gym rat. I’ve worked out because it helped me survive on missions, but now I’m very glad that my body is cut because I can tell by the worshipful way Regan caresses every ridge, how she shifts on top of me, that my body turns her on.

“Tell me what you want,” I beg. “You are killing me.”

“Will you watch me again?”

I nod eagerly. She places three fingers against my lips and I suck them inside my mouth, coating each finger with my tongue. With a pop, she pulls her fingers away, and I’m reluctant to let even that contact go.

My eyes track those glistening fingers until they disappear into her panties. “Take your panties off, sugar. Let me really see you work your pussy.”

Her chest heaving, Regan does as I tell her. She slides backward between my legs and pushes her panties off her ass, lifting a little, and I catch a glimpse of her soft hair and the pretty dark pink flesh of her cunt. I lick my lips and saliva pools as I remember how good she tastes. I need more of that. I need to feast on her.

Then she’s back on my chest, a little higher now. “Am I too heavy for you?” she gasps as she rubs herself, the three fingers I sucked on now getting wet from her own juice.

“Not at all.” Her slight weight isn’t what’s killing me right now. It’s my inability to touch her. "But if you come up a little higher, I can help you out. I can suck on your clit and lap your come as you finger yourself.”

Her fingers stutter as she responds to my words. Biting her lip, she peers down at me indecisively and then gives me a small nod. I refrain from a double fist pump but this is better than a hole in one. Rising on her knees, she inches forward and I move downward.

“Grab hold of the headboard with your one hand, for stability,” I tell her. She does but her pussy is still about an inch too high. I think she’s afraid she’s going to break my face or something, but if anything is breaking off it’s my dick because it is so goddamned hard right now a stiff wind could shatter it. “Lower baby. Sit on me.”

“Won’t I suffocate you?” she worries but lowers until that juicy pussy is resting right on top of my mouth.

“Oh, baby, if only.” I give her one long lick—from her fingers rubbing the top of her pubic bone all the way to her tiny rear rosette.

“Ohhhhh,” she breathes out.

“This pussy is so gorgeous. It’s shaped like one of those white flowers, and every time I push away a fold with my tongue, I find a more tasty delicacy.” I’d tell her more but I’m too busy running my tongue inside her, scooping out her arousal, sucking on each cunt lip and then her clit. I can hear her panting above me, each quickened breath telling me how much she wants this, but even if I couldn’t hear her, I can see the visible evidence of her arousal in how wet she is and how engorged her flesh is. I spear her with my tongue and then lash her clit until she’s thrashing above me and her thighs are clenched against my cheeks. She’s given up fingering herself to grip my hair, alternatingly pulling on my hair and pushing my face closer to her pussy. I love it. I love her fierce touch and her physical exertions. She’s so into this, into me, that she has lost control of her senses and completely let go.