Flame (Fire on the Mountain #2) by Erin Noelle

t-shirt over my head, I gaze down at her and unconsciously lick my lips, dying to taste every inch of her, no salt required . . . but first, I need to fuck her. I’ve got two weeks for exploration. If I don’t get my cock deep inside that pussy right fucking now , I’m going to die. No question.
    “Sunshine,” I growl, my voice filled with a need like I’ve never felt before as I unbutton my pants and allow them to fall to the floor.
    “James,” she hisses, sucking in air through her teeth, her stare dropping to the raging boner in my boxers.
    Fuck. No one’s called me James since I was a kid, and damn, if it isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard coming from her.
    The bed dips with my weight as I crawl in between her already spread thighs, the inferno inside me raging out of control. Lowering myself onto my elbows, my mouth lingers less than a breath away from hers as my throbbing shaft nestles perfectly against her denim-clad mound. Instinctively, Dakota wriggles underneath me, rolling her hips to increase friction against her sensitive clit.
    Her tongue darts out and swipes over her full bottom lip, drawing my attention to her sweet mouth. I need to taste her this fucking second.
    My mouth crashes down on hers in a scorching kiss, firm and unapologetic. She opens to me immediately, accepting the starved thrust of my tongue. Her muffled moans fuel my hunger, and before I know it, I’m tearing at her clothes, dying to feel her skin on mine.
    Tongues exploring, feeding each other’s intense, lust-driven craving, we work together to shimmy her cutoffs down her thighs then break apart to pull her tank tops over her head. And . . . holy fucking shit !
    Not wearing a bra, her tits have got to be the best tits I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen more than my fair share. Perfectly symmetrical, they’re firm, perky, and begging to be played with. Oh, and if they weren’t already sexy-as-sin on their own, each rosy, pebbled nipple has a shiny silver barbell running through it, making her rack hotter than fucking hell itself.
    Her mouth curls up in a wicked smirk, reveling in my adoration. The little minx loves knowing how much she affects me.
    “‘Bout fuckin’ time you’re where you belong,” I grumble, filling my hands with her breasts and dropping my mouth to one of the pretty peaks.
    Fingers slide into my hair as I trace my tongue around the perimeter of the darker circle once before flicking it forcefully over the metal piercing. She bows off the bed like I struck her with a jolt of electricity. “Where I belong ?” she questions, her voice breathy, fighting for control.
    “Mm-hm,” I murmur against her silky flesh. “In my bed. Naked. Under me. Over me. All around me.”
    While my mouth worships one nipple, my fingers work the other, massaging, pulling, and twisting. Her body arches into my touch, into my kiss, and the overwhelming need for more consumes me . . . the need to be buried inside her.
    “I need you inside me.” She voices my thought aloud as she slides one hand between us to caress my cock outside my boxers.
    Well, at least we’re on the same page. Releasing her nipple with a loud pop, I slide the remainder of the way down her petite frame, hooking my thumbs into the sides of her panties tugging the flimsy scrap of material down her legs, and tossing it onto the floor. And then I freeze.
    I’ve had a lot of naked women offer themselves to me before, and I’ve taken full and enthusiastic advantage, but never have I seen anything as fucking erotically stimulating as Dakota is right now. Completely nude—squirming, flushed, and panting—her body begs, even if her words don’t.
    Keeping my knees anchored between her legs, I reach across her to open the top drawer of the nightstand and grab a foil packet. We work together in perfect sync—she pushes the elastic waistband of my boxers down over my hips, allowing my raging erection to spring free while I tear open the wrapper.