Home > Womanizer (Manwhore #4)(9)

Womanizer (Manwhore #4)(9)
Author: Katy Evans

It’s dark. The only sounds that of wet kissing and whispers. Raw and hoarse. I’m straddling him, his hands jammed beneath my skirt and under my panties. One hand cupping my butt, his thumb caressing the fissure.

Breathing and panting as we keep kissing.

“This okay …” he asks me. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk. Just buzzed.” I cup his jaw and rock against him. “You?”

“I’m wasted.” He runs his hand over my butt. “I’m so wasted.” He licks my lips.

We’re kissing again.

I stop, gasping. Our eyes meet and there’s a question in his. His pupils are dilated, his eyelids heavy. “I don’t remember if I shaved my legs this morning. I’ve been so focused on work—” I begin.

“I don’t care.” He runs his hands over my curves.

“Can I . . . can I just go get my razor very quick?”

He nods.

“Do you want me to shave down there?”

“Excuse me?”

“My friends say some guys prefer . . .”

“No. I want you as you are.”

“Every cluster of freckles too?”

“I want those most of all.”

He’s pacing when I come out.

Our eyes meet and hold. He starts crossing the distance between us and I start walking and we meet halfway. He lifts me up by the ass and takes my mouth with his. His fingers bite into my ass cheeks and grind me to his erection.

“Do you have condoms?” I ask. “I’ve got—”

“I got it.” He crushes my mouth again and three seconds later, I’m on my bed and he’s on top of me, his lips tasting the skin on my neck.

He strokes his hand down the center of my chest. “Close your eyes and let me in.”

I close my eyes and arch up.

He kisses my ear, his breath hot. Haggard. “Say you can handle what I’m about to do to you.” His hand strokes a line down my torso, between my breasts, over my belly button. “Once I’m in, I’m owning every freckle I find. Just don’t let me in here.” He brushes his hand over my breast, over my heart.

I arch as his touch trails beneath my belly button.

“Do you like what you feel?” he asks.

I can’t talk. He’s cupping my sex beneath my skirt, the only thing separating me from him are my panties.

“Open your eyes.”

I do.

“Do you like what you see?” he asks.

I swallow and touch his face. “Is this really happening?”

His lips curl a little. “That I’m going to sweep your hair off your shoulder and sweep you off your feet?” He pushes my hair off my shoulder and kisses me there.

I shiver.

He moves his hand to lift my skirt slowly up my thighs. “I’m about to turn up the heat now.”

I can’t breathe. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be scared.”

I grab his face between both my hands and bob my head up and down frantically, scared beyond reason. “I want you so much.”

“I want you too.” He lifts me up by the arms so that the back of my head rests on my pillow, and he licks at my neck, nibbling gently. “Touch me,” he says.

I run my hands over his chest. He unzips my skirt and yanks it down my legs, and my panties follow. “Do you want me here?” He touches my wet folds and inserts one finger inside me.

Again, my head bobs frantically up and down.

He smiles slowly.

“And here.” He rubs my clit with his thumb and moves his middle finger inside me.

I grab his shoulders and bite a piece of his shirt, gasping against the cotton.

“You’re very beautiful. I hope every man who’s ever been where I am now has told you,” he rasps.

Um, no . . .

He bites on my neck a little, and then on my stomach, dips his tongue into my belly button until I’m about to come, then drags his mouth back up to lave and suck my nipples. “And these are the prettiest little freckles I’ve ever seen.”

I flush. I can’t imagine how many “freckles” he’s seen.

“Roll over.”

“I . . .” I’m trembling, but I obey. My emotions skid and whirl.

I feel his hands trailing down my back, as if he wants to find every flaw and spot and mark on my body. I feel him lean over and start to nibble on my ass, and he steals a hand between my cheeks to stroke my folds again.

I fist the sheets at my sides. My eyes are blurry, my breath is too fast to even really oxygenate me, I can’t hear well because of the pounding of my heart and I can’t smell anything past him. My senses have been reduced to feeling and to him.

Suddenly, he rolls over to his back, sits up and yanks off his shirt, pulls off his slacks, and lies back down—fully naked and holy . . .



I’m gaping at his cut body, his tanned skin, his huge . . . Oh god.

His lips curve as he says, “Come get it.”

One breath,

Two breaths,

Three breaths,

And my lungs still feel empty of air.

He’s got the biggest, hardest, longest, thickest erection I’ve ever seen.

He clenches his jaw and sweeps my hair aside, watching me. His eyes glow like fire in the night and he slides his hand around my waist and slowly drags me to his lap.

“Take me in,” he urges.

He catches me by the ass and lifts me, my legs straddling him as our lips smash and he lowers me over him.

I gasp when he fills me.

I adjust over him.

My eyes hold his, cling to his, widening as I take him inside me—long, hard, pulsing with life. He won’t take his eyes off me. They’re heavy and male, and looking at me as if I’m some living masterpiece. There’s not enough air in the world to fill my lungs right now. He’s breathing just as hard, trailing his hands up to caress my breasts.

I moan softly and stay still over him.

He groans and sits up, grabbing my hair and rocking his hips beneath me. I wrap my arms around his neck and start rocking faster.

His hands span my waist firmly and he starts to get control of the rhythm even though I’m on top. He’s setting the pace with every thrust, guiding me up and down.

We’re watching each other.

He rocks his hips and I feel him—so hard, so big, so close—and I get wetter and wetter, absorbing everything.

The soft sucking motions of his mouth on my nipples arrow down to my sex, which keeps squeezing around him.

God, he’s a sucking machine.

I run my fingers up his chest and let my mouth wander, tasting his jaw and his ear as he starts biting gently into my neck, his voice gruff as he tells me I’m so hot, so wet, so good. He’s warm, sweaty, and salty.

He lifts me with one arm and then thrusts me down, pulling my head back, watching my neck arc, and he tells me, “Let’s see what other freckles I find.”

He bites my neck and nibbles, and I groan.

We lose control, stop talking, biting, licking, moving, groaning and fucking. Then my muscles are locking up and I’m racing for it, needing it. Needing him. I’m twisting and thrashing as I come, gasping from the intensity.

He tenses with a soft laugh-groan. He groans a pleasure sound that makes me come even harder and pushes me down on his cock as he jerks inside me. He growls something that sounds like you feel so good and rolls me over and finishes with a few greedy thrusts that somehow retrigger my orgasm.

My orgasm is like I’ve nothing experienced before. A detonation that shatters me to a billion nano-pieces.

When we’re done, he cleans up as if we hadn’t just had a mind-blowing sex session.

I lie comatose in bed. I’m on a high that has nothing to do with the alcohol. I’m catching my breath, sweaty and aware that my muscles feel completely weightless, while I watch him search his clothes. He lifts his cigarette pack and I grin, forget about my buttery muscles and go open a window. We lie on the bed, smiling at each other as we light up.

I start wondering his name as we alternate drags. Maybe Drake.

“Drake. That’s your name.”

“If I’m Drake, you’re Mindy.”

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