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Charged (Saints of Denver #2) Page 34
Author: Jay Crownover

I swept my thumb over the crest of her nipple again and then pulled my hand out of her shirt. I brushed my knuckles along the ridge of her rib cage, pulling my hand out of the opening of her overalls so that I could tap the little buckle that kept the bib part up with my index finger. My lips were right below the delicate shell of her ear as our chests rapidly rose and fell together.

“How bad of an idea do you want to make this, Avett?” I felt like we were already at the point of no return, that there would be no going back from this now that I knew how good she tasted and how addictive it was to get swept up in the storm that was Hurricane Avett. The rush of her, the urgency in my blood to take as much as I could before this moment was over. I wanted to fuck her, wanted inside that sweet little body more than I could remember wanting anything in a very long time, but I still had enough of my typical smarts floating around to recognize that this wasn’t the time or place to make that happen. I wasn’t going to have sex with Avett up against the front door of her father’s house, but I was going to have sex with her. After tonight, I knew that was a given. I knew I couldn’t not have sex with her.

She blinked up at me and the different colors in her hazel eyes warred with each other as she tried to figure out what the right answer to my very complicated question was. It was a tough call because the right answer meant she had to commit to doing even more of the wrong thing, the wrong thing that just happened to feel more right than anything ever had.

Her hands slid from around the back of my neck where she had been clutching at me to rest on my shoulders. The gold in her eyes gleamed and the brown turned to black as it darkened and swallowed the green. “I usually go all in when I make a bad choice. That’s why I fail so spectacularly at life over and over again.” Her voice was husky and it hitched a little as I popped the fastening on her overalls open and let one side flop open.

I let out an expletive that sounded harsh and raspy when the fabric fell, revealing most of her torso and the gentle curve of her stomach. She was built the way smart men wanted women to be. She was pretty much perfect all rumpled and shoved up against the door. She was luscious and I really wanted to pull the lacy pink that was keeping the rest of her covered from me and discover all the different kinds of pleasure her body had to offer, all the different kinds of pleasure I was sure I could give her.

I kissed her below her ear and lazily let my fingers trace random patterns on the quivering skin of her stomach.

“This does not feel like failing at life.” It felt like winning. It felt like a prize I never even knew I needed to claim as my own, which was strange because my entire life had been nothing more than the pursuit of one reward and one accolade on top of the other. I had chased validation and approval since the first time I realized the other kids and teachers knew I came from nothing and had even less than that. My life had been about proving that it wasn’t where you came from that mattered, but where you ended up. I couldn’t be happier about where I was right at this very minute, even if it was miles and miles away from where I should be.

I hooked a finger under the top of her underwear and rubbed my knuckle in a long, smooth line between her hip bones. The touch made her jerk against me and had her tilting her pelvis closer to my own. I groaned as my stiff cock was pressed even more fully into the hollow of her stomach. She squeezed my shoulders and turned her head so that her mouth was pressed against the tense line of my jaw.

“I thought this was about you taking what I was offering and not you giving. So technically, this is a failure.” She let out a very unpracticed and honest-sounding squeak as I dipped my fingers lower and encountered nothing but bare, silken skin. Skin that was hot to the touch and melted into glossy, liquid depths. There was nothing sexier than the sight of that hot-pink lace stretched around my questing hand. There was stretch in the fabric, but not enough that there was a ton of room to move. My fingers were held tight to her most sensitive places and my palm cupped around her like we were made to fit together. It was a pretty pink snare and I had zero desire to escape from it.

I angled my head lower so I could capture her mouth with my own as I let my wandering fingers disappear inside her damp, velvet folds.

“I’m taking your wild and your sweet, Avett. I’m going to know what it feels like against me. I’m going to remember how it tastes and how it moves so that when I’m inside of it, I won’t get swept away by it all.” A man could get lost inside the storm of feeling and emotion she created and I didn’t want to lose my way any more than I already had. Eventually, I was going to have to find my way back to reality, to the life I had spent so much time building.

I used my knee and the leverage I had on her to urge her to spread her legs farther apart so that I could get at all the secret and hidden places that beckoned to me. She complied with a little sigh and arched into my touch. She kept giving me everything I wanted without question, without asking for anything in return, and that kind of openness and generosity went to my head and to my dick faster than any practiced seduction ever had.

She was warm and wet. She was slick and slippery as my fingers moved over her and through her. She whimpered every time the pads of my fingers grazed her excited clit and she moaned breathy little sounds every time my fingers pumped in and out of her drenched channel. Her eyes drifted closed as she clutched at me, as she lifted back up on the tips of her toes to get closer. She was chasing after the sensations I was creating and it was beautiful to watch.

She ripped her mouth away from the endless plundering of mine, tossing her head back so hard that it hit the door behind her with a thud. I leaned forward so that my forehead was resting on the arm that was still bent over her head, and told myself I could do this. I could get tangled up, wound up in her wild, and go back to my own carefully constructed simulation of a life lived well with the best of everything including very little warmth.

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Jay Crownover's Novels
» Charged (Saints of Denver #2)
» Built (Saints of Denver #1)
» Leveled (Saints of Denver #0.5)
» Honor (The Breaking Point #1)
» Better When He's Brave (Welcome to the Point #3)
» Better when He's Bold (Welcome to the Point #2)
» Rule (Marked Men #1)
» Asa (Marked Men #6)
» Jet (Marked Men #2)