Free Hot Summer Lust by Juliette Jones Page B

first chick breathes out her question. Her voice reminds me of putty and desperation. “Will you marry me, Elias? I love you so much.”
    I laugh and say sure, but in my heart I feel almost stricken.
    What I want to say is this: Sorry, honey. I’m fucked, I’m a mess, and I’m taken.
     

     
    Once I get her out of my system, I’ll be fine. Once I fuck her, I can cure this little addiction and move on.
    She wants it. I could have fucked her already, there on the rock, yesterday. She was practically begging for it. Now I wish I had. Maybe then I wouldn’t have this hard-on that’s become a goddamn permanent fixture. I’m so hard it hurts. I’m so hard I feel like my lust is leeching into every part of me, reaching deep and greedily into dark corners of my goddamn soul.
    I’m almost home. Vaughn cornered me with some sleazy studio executive who’s trying to woo me to jump ship, so I’m later than I thought I’d be. Vaughn thinks we should consider it – the money’s ridiculous – but I told him I need to think on it. Sometimes you gotta trust your gut on stuff like this and my gut wasn’t feeling it.
    Maybe because I’m not feeling much of anything except this severe problem I’ve got going on.
    A problem I plan on solving right now.
    I’m driving into my driveway. I slam the door of my car and walk to the house in ground-eating strides.
    I go inside and I know she’s here.
    I can feel her.
    I can smell her. I don’t even think she wears perfume, but she’s in the air. That fresh, sunny whisper.
    She’s not in the kitchen.
    I go upstairs and I can hear the shower running.
    She’s taking a shower.
    I go into the bathroom.
    And open the glass door.
    I kick off my shoes and walk into the shower. I don’t care that I still have all my clothes on. Because she’s there and she’s simply the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Wet and golden and mind-blowing. I sort of fall to my knees and hug my arms around her and rest my head against her thighs . I don’t remember ever feeling this relieved or this happy.
    There’s something about being with her that’s just so damn comforting I can hardly stand it.
    This lust is clawing into me, digging deeper than I can ever remember anything digging. I don’t want it to be doing that, but it is.
    Her hands are on my head, her fingers gently weaving into my hair.
    “Elias,” she says softly and I look up at her. “You’re here.”
       Her face is perfect. A sprinkling of golden freckles. Pale pink lips. Her long, shimmery hair hangs almost to her hips in dripping coils. Tiny rivers cascade from her breasts like she’s some sort of fucking nymph.
    All I can do is sort of stare up at her like a besotted wretch.
    “I missed you,” she whispers.
    And there, so close to my mouth , is her pink, candied pussy. She’s not just wet from the shower. She’s glistening and ready . For me.
    Someone help me.
    I have to do it: I kiss her pussy and just about swoon with my desire for her. She’s as sweet as nectar. My cock is a hot, rigid inferno. This has gone beyond pain into something else altogether. Need. Passion. Obsession.
    Gently, slowly, yet with all the greedy hunger of a starving man, I eat into her until she’s moaning. She’s got fistfuls of my hair and I love this . I’m hers. I want to be hers. All hers.
    I lick lower, deeper, but I can’t get as deep as I want. She’s standing, so I turn her around. “Lean over,” I growl and she obeys, putting her hands on the tiles and widening her stance to give me what I want. She’s offering herself to me in a way that’s driving me fucking more feverish than I already was. She leans forward and arches her back for me and I thrust my tongue into her pussy as I squeeze lightly on her clit, pulling gently, working her pleasure. I lick her everywhere. My tongue touches the cove of her ass and she squirms but I hold her there, licking in time to the play of my fingers. She comes for me, crying out my