Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) by Evie Mitchell (short story to read .txt) 📗

reached his house. Anticipation tingled, building as he drove us home. Fantasies built and, as we turned into his driveway, I plucked up the courage to ask for the one fantasy I wanted.

“Will you let me taste you?”

The tires screamed, the car skidded on the loose gravel as the car bumped to a halt. Luc climbed out, rounding the bonnet, jerking my door open, pulling me free of the car. His mouth crashed down on mine as he boosted me up, encouraging my legs to wrap around his waist.

I am not small. I am a Viking of a woman. I have tits, arse, and stand close to six feet tall. Luc didn’t struggle. He took my weight, groaning as my arse settled into his hands. He pushed me against the garage wall, fucking my mouth with his tongue, squeezing my arse with his hands as I dry humped him, my legs holding him tight.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling back. I whimpered a protest.

“Keys, Em, love…” He tried to regain control. “Inside, we need to go…”

I hopped down, powering for the door. We reached it, hitting the locks, unarming the house. The door opened and I headed for the bedroom, Luc close on my heels. Inside, we crashed together, a frantic wave of need. His beautiful beard dragged across my sensitized skin as I stripped him of his jacket, his belt, his tie. He ripped the shirt, buttons popping across the room as I dropped to my knees, hands frantically reaching for his fly.

“Emmie.”

My name sounded like a plea, and that did things to me. Things I enjoyed. I wanted to wring that sound from him again. I wanted him to only ever say my name in that needy, desperate voice.

My hands slowed as I drew out his cock. I glanced up. He panted, his gorgeous chest covered in a fine sheen of sweat. His hands were clenched at his side, as if he were trying to stop from taking over.

Oh, but I wanted him to lead.

I gripped him, using a technique I may have googled.

May have? You googled the heck out of how to tickle his pickle.

I drew his cock down, tracing its crown against my lips. He groaned, the broken sound feeding my desire.

“Emmie.”

I opened my mouth, tongue dipping to taste him. Heat and salt and man.

Delicious.

Chapter Forty-Three

Luc

Em’s mouth was wetter and hotter than anything I’d ever felt. Or maybe it’s just I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anyone or anything in my life.

She stroked my length with her tongue, flicking playfully at the underside of my crown, pulling curses from me with surprising ease.

“Fuck. Jesus. Fuck. Christ. Fuck. Fuck.”

Her lips wrapped around me, taking me as deep as she could.

And I died. My eyes rolled back in my head as words spilled from my mouth uncensored.

“Yes, take me deeper, Keys. Suck my cock,” I urged.

She moaned as she took me, getting off on my directions.

It took every piece of will power I had to keep from grabbing her hair, holding her still and fucking her mouth. But I’d spent too many months fisting my own cock to destroy this fantasy.

She drew back. “Luc?”

“Okay?”

She licked her lips, hand still firmly around my cock. She dragged her hand up, twisting just so.

I nearly came. Honest to God, this girl. This magnificent creature destroyed me.

She looked nervous for a moment, rocking on her knees.

“Emmie?”

She looked up at me with those big green eyes, her long lashes sweeping down to brush the curve of her cheek. Her pink delicious lips opened to say the last thing I expected.

“Prends-moi, Lucien.”

Holy fuck.

My control snapped, and I reached down, mindless in my need for her. I lifted her, awkwardly moving us to the bed, throwing her onto the mattress and covering her with my body. My mouth worked its way down as my hands pulled her clothes off, peeling back the shields she used to keep everyone else at bay. No one saw this. No one knew how beautiful she was, how perfectly formed. No one but me.

Possessed by my need to taste and touch, I wanted to consume her. I wanted her to burn with the same need, the same want I battled every day. It was all or nothing.

I tugged jeans and underwear from her body, my hands immediately running up her legs to part her thighs. My mouth delighted in the treasures I uncovered.

“Tu es une déesse. Je veux te posséder,” I murmured against her core. She whimpered, putting a hand in my hair, returning my mouth to her delightful pussy.

“I don’t speak French,” she admitted between rapid pants, her eyes closed, her thighs clenched around my head as I teased her. “I googled.”

I chuckled, my breath teasing her centre, ending her squirming. “You want me to translate?”

“Mm.” Her hips thrust up as I swapped my tongue for a finger, moving up her body, pressing hot, wet kisses to every part of her that intrigued me. Lucky me, all of her intrigued me.

“It means, love,” −I nipped her earlobe, enjoying her earthy groan− “you are a goddess, and I want to own you.” I pressed two fingers against her. Slick, they slid in an ever-tightening circle until I found the spot that made her gasp.

“Luc!”

There it is.

I grinned, pressing a hot kiss to her mouth. She bucked beneath me, crying out as it crashed over her. I could watch this a million times and never grow tired of how she looked at this moment.

She blinked up at me, coming down from her high. A half-smile on her pretty face.

“Okay? I asked, aching to take her.

“No.”

Fuck.

“No?”

She shook her head, hand snaking down to pull me closer. I heard the crinkle of a wrapper before her other hand moved to slide a condom on my length.

“No,” she whispered, her hips gently undulating. “I need you.”

Fuck. This girl. Perfect.

“What do you need, beautiful?” I asked, my voice rough. Her hands crept up, her hips moving higher as she squirmed.

“You.”

“Say it,” I demanded.

“I