The Naked Fisherman (Fisherman 1) - Page 59

His lips descended another inch or more. There. He was right there. A whooshing sound—a thumping that matched my ever-escalating heartbeat—made it hard to hear anything else.

“Here?”

I barely heard him, but I still nodded.

Fisher pressed a soft kiss over my panties. Then his grip on my legs tightened, and he kissed me a little harder, sucking some of the thin cotton into his mouth. Biting it. And tugging it. Exposing part of my flesh.

Again, he kissed me hard. Sucked. Bit. Tugged.

My panties were no longer covering much. I fought the gullible thoughts tripping over themselves in my head. Thoughts of love and happily ever after’s. Some men showered women with poems and flowers. Maybe oral sex was Fisher’s way of expressing his love. Sadly, my panties between his teeth wasn’t exactly something I could photograph and share with my friends on social media.

#relationshipgoals

#myfirsttime

#LazySunday

#LickIt

We weren’t going public with our relationship anyway because it was ending soon.

“I’m going to fucking devour you,” he said just before his mouth covered my bare flesh.

Just before his tongue parted me.

Just before he hummed.

I was …

Terrified to have his mouth there.

Elated because it felt so good. Too good. Sinfully good.

Confused because it wasn’t sex, but it was sex.

Surely, the look he gave me fell under Rory’s testicle removal threat. Did he think about that? Even once?

All the blood in my body made its way to the exact spot his mouth was on me. And it made it impossible to think or breathe. And yes, it made it really hard to keep from falling to the floor beneath my shaky knees.

“Fisher …” I found a tiny voice to speak one word as my body teetered to the side, my whole forearm resting on the frame as my other hand claimed a large handful of his hair and my knees bowed inward.

It was wrong! I knew it. I just didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity to stop it. A prime example of why giving in to temptation was a bad idea. There were points of no return, and I had breezed past mine the second he opened his front door.

Fisher was unrelenting and hungry. He seemed famished. Then he seemed … impatient, ripping my panties down my legs. I released his hair and reached for them, as if they were my last line of defense, even if they weren’t covering anything whatsoever at that point. Did keeping one item of clothing on make it less wrong?

Oops … I didn’t even remove my panties. He accidentally tripped and his mouth just landed there.

Fisher’s hands guided my legs to spread wider before he resumed his oral navigation and, in general, driving me to the edge of passing out or using really bad words.

“This is so wrong …” I mumbled.

In the next breath, he was gone. Well, his mouth was gone.

Fisher stood and chuckled, resting his hands on my hips to guide me backward to his bed while he kissed my neck. “Do you want to stop?”

The back of my knees hit the bed, and I plunked onto my butt.

“We can stop right now.”

Resting back on my elbows, I shook my head. “I just don’t want it to be wrong.”

“Well …” He twisted his lips. “Sorry. I can make it good, but I can’t make it right in your head.”

“I want …” I bit my lip and searched for the right words. “I want it like last night.”

He squinted one eye. “No fucking way.”

Swallowing, I frowned. “I want to …”

Feel like we’re having sex, even if you won’t actually have it with me!

“I want it like last night or … more,” I said with defeat to my voice. At that point, I was already dirty. Would finishing the job before taking a spiritual shower really have made that much of a difference?

“Despite you being naked on my bed, despite you incessantly wetting your lips while staring at my erection …”

Busted!

I cut my gaze straight to his, grinning with admission that he caught me gawking at his tented shorts.

“I’m not taking your virginity. I had a little talk with myself about it, and we—me and my moderately well-honed conscience—decided to pass on the offer. I don’t feel worthy of it.”

“Worthy of it?” I coughed a laugh. “You mean to tell me you’ve never taken someone’s virginity?”

“I didn’t say that.” He grabbed my leg, forcing me onto my back while he brought my foot to his mouth and kissed the pad of my big toe.

“Why? You can’t say that and not have an explanation. Why was it okay then?”

“Because it wasn’t some crowned jewel. It wasn’t a prized possession. There was no hesitation. No chanting ‘this is so wrong.’”

I frowned.

“I can’t give it back, Reese. If or when you have second thoughts or regret, I can’t give it back to you.”

“So you’d rather borrow someone’s used sanitary napkin?”

Tags: Jewel E. Ann Fisherman Romance
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