Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3)

by Tara Wyatt

  “You’re so sensitive,” he said, his tone dripping with approval. “So responsive.”

  She nodded and kissed him again, slipping the remaining buttons of his shirt free. With his shirt open, she pressed her chest to his, both of them moaning at the skin-to-skin contact. His chest hair scraped lightly against her nipples and she shifted her hips, hot pressure already building up inside her. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her feel like this, and she wondered if one ever had. If a man had ever made her feel like her skin was on fire, like she was going to be nothing but a pile of ash by the time he was finished with her.

  He broke the kiss and stood suddenly, still holding her in his arms. He turned so that her back was to the bed and then carefully eased her down. His eyes were bright, flashing with intensity in the low lighting. He stood in front of her at the edge of the bed and shrugged out of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

  She’d seen him shirtless before—the company beach day from last summer was an often-visited memory—but never like this. Never alone, in the dark, on a bed, his thick cock straining against his pants. For her.

  He was beautiful. Absolutely, stunningly beautiful. He was so big, so broad and thick with muscle. All tightly coiled masculine strength and power.

  His chest heaved as he stared at her, the only sign—besides the mouthwatering outline of his cock beneath his pants—that he was just as affected by this as she was. Still holding her gaze, he lifted his hands to his belt, slowly working it open. The buckle clanked softly as he undid the front of his pants, but he stopped there, denying her the view of what she wanted to see. Taste. Feel. But he made up for it by rubbing his palm over his cock and letting out a low, gruff sound.

  “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, kneeling on the bed and sliding his hands up her legs, his fingers curling around her calves, easing her legs open.

  She met his eyes, sucking in a shaky breath. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” And it was true. The sky could fall around them and she’d still want this. Max, here, now.

  A pained expression flashed across his face, gone so quick she wondered if she’d imagined it. But then his hands kept traveling upward and her stomach exploded in butterflies. She could feel her pulse in her clit and her hips shifted on the bed. His huge hands stopped when they reached her thighs, his thumbs skimming the outer edge of where she was throbbing for him. Everything inside her clenched at the feeling of his hands so, so close. She bit her lip, holding back a whimper.

  His hand slid over her pussy and she gasped, her hips arching toward him. It was so good and yet not early enough with her leggings and panties still on. A hot, thick throb settled between her legs and she clenched again.

  He worked his hand over her in an achingly slow caress. “Fuck, Willa,” he said, his voice strained. “You’re so wet. I can feel it.”

  She knew she should say something in response, but all she could do was moan as he rubbed his hand over her again, frustration at the layers of fabric separating them making her ball her hands into fists. He slid his hands up over her hips and curled his fingers into the waistband of her leggings, working them down her legs. She lifted her hips off the bed, helping. Eager for whatever was coming next.

  Hopefully she was what was coming next, because she wasn’t sure how much more of this aching she could stand. This empty throbbing that only seemed to burrow deeper and deeper into her.

  He tossed her leggings aside and then climbed onto the bed, carefully easing his weight down onto her. Something inside her settled at feeling so surrounded by him. For the first time since the invasion, she felt truly safe. Sheltered. Still horny as hell, but also sweetly protected. She wrapped her arms around him, savoring the feel of hard muscle and warm skin pressed against her. His teeth scraped over her jaw and he nipped at her earlobe, making her shiver.

  “I’ve thought about this so many times,” he said, his face buried in her neck. “You, underneath me. Wanting me.”

  He could’ve told her he was the freaking Wizard of Oz and she wouldn’t have been more shocked than she was at his admission. He’d never given her even the tiniest inclination that her crush was anything but one-sided.

  “Really?” she asked, her voice a trembling whisper. “I didn’t—” But she couldn’t finish her thought as he worked his hips against her, his massive cock pressing against her fluttering pussy. Oh, God. He was going to ruin her. She knew it already, and there wasn’t a damn thing she was going to do to stop it.

  “Tell me what you need,” he said, kissing a path down her throat, across her collarbone. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

  A thrill shot through her and she lifted her hips, arching up to meet him. “I need to come. I need you inside me. I’m empty without you, so empty it almost hurts, Max. I need you to fill me up and take me.”

  He sucked on a spot just below her ear and she rasped out a breath, pleasure twisting her insides into a bright, pulsing knot. “God, Willa,” he breathed, thrusting against her. “If you say you need to come, I’m gonna make you come. As many times as you can stand.”

  He started kissing a path down her body, closing his mouth over one nipple while massaging her other breast. Need, thick and hot like humidity, pressed down on her, making her unable to do anything but feel. Everything with Max was so intense. Maybe because she’d wanted him for so long, or maybe because that was just who he was. How he operated.

  He switched his attention to her other nipple, sucking it into his mouth. She moaned, her back bowing off of the bed as pleasure scorched her, making her shake. Making her throb. Making her so incredibly greedy for him that it was like a gnawing hunger inside her.

  He moved down over her stomach, raining hot, open-mouthed kisses on her skin. On her hips, on the tops of her thighs. Each kiss made her skin tingle with awareness, with a glowing heat. Sucking in a shaky breath, she tried to imprint this—all of this—on her brain. The feeling of Max’s mouth on hers, on her skin. The scent of him. The feel of him, all hard muscle and warm skin, pressed against her. The intensity flashing in his eyes. A part of her still couldn’t believe that this was happening and she felt as though she was trying to catch every single second like sand slipping through her fingers.

  What was tonight to him? He’d said that he’d thought about her like this so many times. What did that mean? What would happen tomorrow, after the sun came up? After they’d crossed a line they couldn’t uncross? She didn’t have answers to any of these questions, and her ability to think vanished when Max started working her panties down over her hips, her legs, not stopping until they were on the floor.

  She raised herself up onto her elbows and his eyes met hers as he licked the seam of her thigh.

  “I’m gonna find out what you like, Willa. And then I’m going to do it over and over again.” He licked the other seam and then parted her with his thumbs, inhaling deeply. “Fucking heaven,” he murmured roughly, his gaze returning to hers. He kissed her pussy, a slow, almost sweet kiss, before giving her one long, teasing lick, his tongue flicking at her clit. She let out a shuddery moan, and he did it again, watching her intently. Then he worked his lips over her clit in a sucking kind of kiss that made her hips buck. He banded an arm across her hips, holding her down.

  “You like when I suck on this pretty little clit, don’t you?” he asked, doing it again before she could answer. She made a strangled sound and nodded jerkily. “Let’s see what else you like.” He gave her pussy a deep kiss and then licked her, the flat of his tongue dragging upward from her entrance to her clit.

  “Oh, fuck, Max,” she moaned, everything inside her coiling tight. His eyes were still on her, studying her with a blazing intensity, taking in her every miniscule reaction. He did it again, and again, working her with his tongue and she felt the first sparks of an orgasm start to sizzle deep inside.

  “You like that, too,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He did it again, even slower, and she c
urled her fingers into the soft fabric of the duvet, needing something to anchor herself when she inevitably exploded into a hundred thousand pieces.

  “I like everything you do with your mouth,” she panted out, her pulse jackhammering in her temples.

  “Mmm,” he rumbled out, then dragged his lips up and down her slit before returning to her clit and sucking it back into his mouth. He swirled his tongue over it once, twice and then she couldn’t take any more. Her orgasm burst over her in hot, heavy throbs, making her legs shake and her hips thrash against his hold.

  “Max!” She screamed out his name as he continued to suck her throbbing clit, sharpening the pleasure spiraling through her. He didn’t stop what he was doing, only slowly gentled his sucks by gradual degrees, calculated and precise, before finally pulling away when she was perfectly wrung out.

  Oh, holy shit. Max Prescott had just gone down on her and given her the most incredible orgasm of her life. She felt warm and languid and sated, as though she’d had a couple of glasses of champagne. As though she’d spent the day lying in the sun.

  Still watching her with a gleaming ferocity in his eyes, he slid two fingers inside her and curled them up and pressed, exerting gentle pressure. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she let out a loud moan, so guttural and raspy she barely recognized her own voice.

  “I think you like this, too,” he said, his voice gritty with arousal. He rubbed his fingers in a slow circle, over and over again until her entire world was nothing but sparkling pleasure. “And what about this?” he asked, increasing his pressure and stroking her in a beckoning motion. “Do you like when I touch you like this, Willa?”

  She made a crazed sound, almost like she was speaking in tongues, nonsensical syllables falling from her lips. A sensation she’d never felt before was building inside her, a kind of heavy pressure that was almost too intense to bear. When she’d come before, she’d felt tight and achy, but with his fingers inside her, she felt as though every single one of her nerve endings was being squeezed in the most delicious way. She felt like a dam, holding back an overflowing river, just trying to hang on.

  He kept stroking her, his fingers working over that tender spot inside her, over and over again, and the pressure built and built until she felt as though she were going to break in two. She wanted to lean into it and run from it at the same time, but before could make the choice she burst, her pussy clenching and rippling wildly around Max’s fingers. Her entire body felt heavy with the pleasure pounding through her, her head thrashing on the pillow, her hips writhing as she moaned and gasped for air. She felt wet—so incredibly, almost embarrassingly wet. Slowly, Max slipped his fingers free and then nuzzled his face against her pussy, licking her gently.

  Her hips shifted and she whimpered, not sure how much more she could take. She was about to ask him to stop when he sucked her clit into his mouth again and every single muscle she had went taut.

  “Max,” she moaned, spearing her fingers into his hair. Holding him where he was once again building her up with that talented mouth of his. Those sucking kisses on her clit were going to be the death of her, but damn. What a way to go.

  With a long moan, she came again, her clit throbbing against Max’s tongue. Her vision blurred around the edges and she felt light headed, her arms and legs shaking.

  He nipped at her outer lips, teasing them with his teeth. “I don’t want to stop eating your pussy,” he said, his voice rough. “But I’m gonna fucking explode if I don’t get inside you.”

  “I think I’m going to like that best of all,” she said softly, feeling completely boneless.

  Max rose to his knees, the shadows highlighting the planes of his chiseled physique, roped with muscle. “You shouldn’t—” He started to say, but cut himself off, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

  “I shouldn’t what?” she asked, an echo of the earlier doubt returning, chasing away the buzz of her orgasms.

  He shot her a smile, and oh God. He never smiled. Ever. Seeing it now was like watching the sun come out after a long winter. Beautiful and glorious. The skin around his eyes crinkled, shifting the entire appearance of his face, making him look younger.

  For a brief moment, he looked happy, and she realized that she’d never seen him like that. He was always so grumpy, so gruff and distant. But not tonight, apparently, and God, it made her foolish heart hope.

  He shook his head, shoving a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. “Nothing.” He rose from the bed and undressed the rest of the way. She bit her lip at the sight of him, long and thick and huge. It was a good thing he’d made her wetter than the freaking ocean, because otherwise she wasn’t sure he’d fit.

  He opened a drawer in a bedside table, pulling out a condom. She couldn’t help but notice that the box was already opened, that at least a few of the condoms were gone. A completely unexpected wave of bitter jealousy gripped her. Who had he used the condoms with? How many other women had he had in this very bed? Unwelcome words flashed through her brain, smashing the bit of hope she’d had to shards: you’re not special. This is a pity fuck.

  Given her feelings for him, maybe what they were about to do was a huge mistake. A colossally bad idea.

  But then, before she could figure out what to do, what to say, he ripped open the condom and rolled it down his thick length, stroking his cock with a rough hand. And then, holding her gaze, he climbed back onto the bed, easing his weight down on her and taking her mouth in a slow, deep kiss.

  She wrapped her legs around him, thrilling at the feel of being so surrounded by him, so sheltered. He slipped a hand under her ass and tilted her up, shifting the angle slightly so that his cock slid against her swollen, sensitive pussy. She gasped, not just from the sensation but from the electrical charge racing through her at the knowledge that she was finally about to have him inside her. This man she’d spent the past several months wanting more than anything.

  He teased them both, sliding his cock over her wetness again and again, coating himself in it. Kissing her again, he eased just the head of his massive cock inside her and then stopped.

  “Tell me you want this,” he said, his voice gruff and low.

  She tilted her hips up, trying to take more of him. “I want you, Max. Please. Fill me up like we both want.”

  He moaned and pressed into her a bit more. Despite how wet she was, she still sucked in a sharp breath at the stretching burn radiating through her.

  “Breathe, sweetheart,” he said, flexing his hips slowly, working his cock in deeper. With one hand still on her hip, he braced himself up on his elbow, staring down at her, his gaze alert and focused. “Just breathe.”

  She took a deep breath, wondering if he could feel just how hard and fast her heart was beating against her chest. Wondering if he had any idea whatsoever what tonight meant to her, even if it was just a pity fuck on his part.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, so quietly she wasn’t even sure the words were meant for her, and then he pushed the rest of the way inside, burying himself to the hilt.

  Oh, God. Oh God oh God oh God. Max Prescott was inside her.

  The orgasms before had been incredible—hot and amazing and intense—but this, having him, this man she’d felt incredibly drawn to from the first time she’d ever seen him, inside her, was something else.

  He pressed his forehead to hers, his intense blue eyes pinning her down more than his muscled weight ever could. Moving his hips slowly, he established a deep rhythm, sending fresh pleasure rocketing through her, making her hold him tighter, her toes curling.

  “You feel so good inside me,” she said, dragging her lips over his jaw, wanting to memorize the taste of his skin. “It’s so perfect, Max.”

  “Fuck, Willa,” he ground out, starting to move a little faster. “You feel amazing. Even better than I ever—” But he cut himself off for the second time that night and claimed her mouth in a hot, deep kiss. She could’ve stayed like that with him forever—his cock moving insid
e her in a steady, deep rhythm, filling her up so perfectly that she was terrified nothing else would ever compare to this. His mouth on hers, the sounds of his moans and sharp exhales, the scent of their sex filling the room. She wanted to pause time and stay here. Right here.

  “Willa,” he breathed, his hips moving faster as he started to lose control. It was so hot, watching all of that careful composure melt away because of her. “God, Willa.” He buried his face in her neck, his mouth hot on her skin as he took her hard and deep. “Oh, fuck, Willa, sweetheart, I’m not going to last much longer,” he said, his voice a growl she felt in her stomach. “You feel too good.”

  It was his words that sent her over the edge one last time, her orgasm sparkling over her skin like fairy dust. Max calling her sweetheart, telling her how good she felt meant more to her than she had the ability to process right now.

  “Max!” She screamed out his name as the orgasm continued to pulse through her, making her ripple around him, as though her body were trying to pull him even deeper.

  “That’s right, sweetheart. Come all over my cock. Fucking hell, Willa.” He ground out the last words, and she clung to him as he moved faster, thrusting into her harder and deeper, the sound of their tangled moans and the wet slide of his cock in and out of her clenching pussy the only sounds in the room. After a few more deep thrusts, his hips jerked and he slammed into her one last time. She felt his cock pulse inside her and he shuddered with his release, moaning her name. The sound of her name, said with a growling moan in that low voice of his, was one of the hottest things she’d ever heard in her life.

  He held completely still and worry gripped her as she wondered if he was already pulling away. Without a word, he slid out of her and retreated to the bathroom, and she didn’t know what to think or expect or even feel. She knew what she wanted, knew how she felt about him. But her feelings weren’t the whole story here. Not by a long shot. A part of her reveled in the fact that she’d probably be sore. She wanted to feel him tomorrow. Wanted to keep that reminder of tonight, because she had a feeling all of the walls were going to come slamming back down tomorrow morning.