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Amber to Ashes (Torn Hearts #1) Page 44
Author: Gail McHugh

“Ah, Christ,” Brock snarls, tightening his grip around my waist. “You feel me, Ber? ’Cause I’m feelin’ you, baby. Your pussy was made for me. Your tits, ass, lips, all of it.”

“Mm, God, yes,” I pant, my body vibrating. “You feel so good.”

I drag my nails across the width of his back, falling into everything he is. The way his rough yet soft hands are all over my body. It’s as if he can’t help but touch me, like he’s struggling with which part to explore next. The girth of his rigid cock as it slips in and out of me, pulsing into my core with an urgency I’ve never experienced. The way his erotic groans pitch and lower against my ear with each response my body exhibits.

I might be riding him, but every ounce of Brock is possessing me, staking his claim by the second.

He cushions two fingers against my clit, applying pressure in quick, luscious strokes. “Let go, baby girl. I know you need to come. I can feel it.” He rubs at my swollen flesh again, faster, harder. “I want this pussy sucking my cock so deep that it hurts.”

Another thrust onto him, followed by his teeth sinking into my shoulder, and I’m done for, gone. My muscles lock up around him, delicious heat flaring from my head right down to my toes as I convulse in what I’m positive’s the most brutal orgasm I’ve ever had.

Brock seizes my waist—his grip unforgiving—and jerks his hips up, fucking into me with the fluidity of a well-oiled pleasure-inducing machine. I crash again, a second orgasm thrashing through my womb. He flips me onto my back, completely withdraws from me, and slides his hands under my ass, lifting the bottom half of my body off the bed. Before I can take a full breath, his mouth is on my pussy, licking through my center, his tongue spearing in and out.

“Are you crazy?” I pant, my legs instinctively finding his shoulders. “I can’t come again. I can’t.”

He grips my bottom tighter, yanks me to his face, and drags his tongue lower, probing the puckered flesh no man’s ever explored so intimately. “You can,” he growls, sucking my clit into his mouth, “and you will.”

“Oh my God.” I gasp, my hands seeking something to hold as he moves his tongue up and down, down and up, his thumb poking in and out of my pussy in rhythm with his strokes, flicks, and bites. “Please, no. Brock, I . . . I . . .”

Come so hard on his face, I’m sure I’ve ruined it.

Victorious smile stretching his lips, Brock lowers my listless body back down onto the bed and kisses me hard and deep, his intoxicating groans filling my ears. My belly dips, knotting both welcomed and unwelcomed emotions around my heart. Continuing to kiss me—fierce passion in each delicious lash of his tongue—Brock cradles the back of my head, spreads open my legs, and pushes inside me. Though it’s aching, my pussy flares wide, accepting every inch of him.

“You’re more than I deserve,” he whispers, pulling back to stare at me. Sincerity floods his eyes, a sheepish smile tugging his mouth as he glides his thumbs along my cheeks. “Guys like me never snatch up girls like you. If they do, it’s usually because she’s rebounding.” He kisses my forehead, his voice remaining soft, sensual. “Thank you for sharing yourself with me, Ber. I’ve never thanked a girl after sex—which now that I’m thinking about it makes me a certified dick—but everything about you is fucking amazing.” He kisses my nose, a light chuckle vibrating his chest. “Your sexual skills included.”

“I’m amazing?” I question breathlessly, convinced the boy has lost his damn mind. I hook my legs around his waist, enjoying his slower movements. “If I’m amazing, I’m not sure what you are.”

Brock chuckles as I come to the realization I’ve officially been fucked straight, licked undone, and rewarded with multiple treats. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t endure a pounding if I tried.

Still, I kiss his neck, shoulder, and jaw, my need to thank him intense. “Fuck me, Brock. Go ahead. I’m okay.”

He draws up a brow, slightly picking up the pace. “You’re just . . . okay?”

“I’m beyond okay, Cunningham,” I purr, nipping his lip. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course. What was I thinking? You want me to”—he thrusts his hips forward, a smirk on his face as I gasp—“fuck you, right?”

“Yes.” It comes out as a pant as he thrusts into me again.

He grips the headboard with one hand while the other stays securely buried in my hair. “Like this?” he asks with another thrust, his mouth coming down over mine.

On a long moan, I nod, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“And this?” He plummets deeper, his free hand gliding down my waist as he moves fluidly, his balls slapping against the cushion of my ass.

“God, yes. Like that. Please don’t stop,” I beg, ignoring the sting of my skull hitting the headboard.

It’s not long before his body goes rigid, his muscles tightening with his approaching orgasm. Seizing the opportunity, I slip out from beneath Brock, slide the condom off him, and push him back onto his heels. I lower my lips to his cock, teasing my tongue over its engorged head. Brock sucks in a shocked breath, a delicious groan rumbling from his chest. The erotic sound causes my pussy to weep for its loss as I swirl my tongue in slow circles, taking in more of him. Holding the perfect mixture of salt and tang, sex and sweat, the man tastes amazing. One hundred percent pure, unequivocal bliss.

With the fingers of one eager hand caressing the heavy sac of his balls, I take his beautiful cock all the way to the back of my throat, nearly choking on its sheer size and girth.

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Gail McHugh's Novels
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