Always Only You by Chloe Liese (z-lib.org).epub

yank it loose, then attack the buttons of my shirt. Frankie grabs my buckle,
tugging it so hard, she loses her balance and nearly bumps into the stove. I catch
her by the elbow and wrap an arm around her to keep her steady.
“Shit,” she mutters, staring at the meal she was cooking.
I reach past her, flicking off burners. “Later.”
She nods, leaning up, kissing me, arms around my neck. I scoop her up and
wrap her legs around my waist. “Does that hurt?” I ask against her mouth.
“No,” she whispers, dropping her head, stretching her neck for me to kiss.
I groan when she reaches between us and palms me over my suit pants.
“You’re done?” I ask.
She nods furiously. “Today. Thank God.”
Setting her on the kitchen counter, I press her back, then kiss my way down
her stomach. I shuck her shorts, dragging them off of her legs and tossing them
aside.
“What are you—Oh, God,” she gasps, her arms dropping softly onto the cold
granite.
“You said come home hungry.” I kiss her stomach, swirl my tongue lower
and lower. “And I’m more than happy to follow orders.”
My hands part her, as finally, finally I see her close, breathe her in. Velvet
soft skin, dark curls that I run my fingers through. Exploring the delicate skin of
her stomach, I reach further and cup her breast. “Look at you. Perfect.”
She arches into my touch as I tease her nipple and press slow, wet openmouthed
kisses on the inside of her thigh. “Ren, you don’t have to—”
“Don’t bother finishing that sentence, Frankie. I’ll die if I don’t do this.”
She laughs breathily. “So dramatic—” A gasp leaps out of her as I bend and
sweep my tongue where she’s warm and wet, decadently soft. My thumb teases
her clit with faint, featherlight touches, while I taste her and spear her with my
tongue.
Faint, steady cries leave her. Her fingers delve into my hair, but there’s no
tug, no push, no direction. She’s hesitating.
“Are you holding back on me, Francesca?”
Breath rushes out of her. “N-no.”
“You’re taking what you want?”
She nods, but it’s slow. Tentative.
I yank her hips to the edge of the counter, cupping her bottom as I drop to
my knees and swing each of her legs over my shoulders. “No, you’re not.”
Frankie cries out, a broken sob as I lock my mouth over her and take her
with my tongue. One finger curled deep inside her, where she’s softer, tender, so
impossibly wet. Then two. I want her ready. I don’t want it to hurt when I’m