Contents ( 46)
- Southern Gentleman
- A Charleston Heat Novel
- Jessica Peterson
- Contents
- Also by Jessica Peterson
- Where to Find Jessica
- Julia
- Greyson
- Greyson
- Julia
- Julia
- Greyson
- Greyson
- Julia
- Greyson
- Greyson
- Julia
- Greyson
- Julia
- Julia
- Greyson
- Greyson
- Julia
- Greyson
- Julia
- Julia
- Julia
- Greyson
- Greyson
- Julia
- Greyson
- Greyson
- Julia
- Greyson
- Julia
- Greyson
- Julia
- Greyson
- Julia
- Epilogue
- Julia
- Southern Heartbreaker Excerpt
- Ford
- Also by Jessica Peterson
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
In reply, she bites her lip. Furrows her brows. Keeps circling her fingertips over her clit.
“Then hurry up,” she pants.
It’s awkward, but I manage to half get on my knees, half lay down on the bench. Meeting her eyes, I loosen the knot of my tie.
Then I lean down. Curling my hands around the backs of her knees, I hold them open and kiss her cunt. The way I’d kiss her mouth—deeply, impatiently, well.
I’m shaking with the effort to hold back.
I swirl my tongue around her clit, and she cries out. Digs her fingers into my hair, urging me to keep going. I suck her. Nibble. Use my thumbs to play with her slick flesh while I lick my tongue inside her.
My dick presses urgently against the fly of my pants.
Her hips buck against my mouth. She’s touching her tits, touching me.
Eyes closed. Completely lost to the moment. Uninhibited. Hiding nothing. Literal naked honesty.
Jesus, she’s beautiful.
I want to keep going. More than I want my next breath. But I’m going to come in my pants if I don’t get inside her soon.
I’ve wanted her for too long.
I’ve waited too damn long.
Mouth still on her pussy, I reach blindly on the seat behind me for the condom. I find it. Kiss her clit one last time.
I fall back on my haunches and hold the condom out to her. Opening her eyes, she takes it.
“You,” is all I can manage as I unbutton my pants. Don’t even bother with my belt.
I pull out my dick and hold it in my fist, getting back up on my knees. Julia opens the condom packet with her teeth. Legs still spread—still propped up against the window—she rolls it down my length using firm, short strokes.
I’m growling again.
“I want to fuck you,” I say. Because that’s all this is.
A fuck.
That’s all this is.
That’s it.
We’re safe as long as it’s just a fuck.
She gives my dick another tug. Harder this time. Making me fall onto my hands on either side of her hips, my tie dangling between us.
“Then fuck me,” she says.
Need—I’m wild with it. My vision goes red, then blurs. I straighten, grab her by the backs of her thighs, and yank her toward me so that her back is flat against the seat.
I pull her again, closer. I wrap her legs around my waist. My dick bobs over her groin.
Taking it in my hand, I position myself at her entrance. Lean down on my other arm.
We meet eyes. Hers are heavy lidded. Cheeks and chest flushed.
“Greyson, please,” she whimpers. So honest in her need.
Why does she have to be so fucking real? Why can’t she pretend or hide or fake it just once?
I rear back. Eyes still on hers.
I buck my hips and surge forward, sinking to the hilt in one rough, fast motion. Her tits bounce. Head falls back. The tiny gold chain around her neck flies up to catch on her chin.