Thank you for celebrating the launch of Text Me, Cupid with me! Welcome to your DIRTY excerpt.
TEXT ME, CUPID by M. Jane Colette
Excerpt / NSFW / dirty
Sex, Stick and Carrot (Episode 1, Scene 12)
He didn’t bend her over a parked car this time. Nor kiss her in the vestibule. And she didn’t touch him either, not until he pushed the elevator button, and that’s when she leaned into his shoulder—just a lean, her forehead brushing the bottom of his jaw.
And he lost his mind, again, and by the time the elevator doors opened, she was half-naked and he was all hard, and Mrs. Ziernicka, the chair of the condo board, almost swallowed her dentures.
“Mr. Ornot!” she shouted stepping out of the elevator. “Are you drunk?”
“So fucking sober, Mrs. Z,” he moaned through a mouthful of Florence’s hair. “Merry Christmas.”
She unbuttoned his coat and shirt in the elevator, but he didn’t let her do much else—he was too… he couldn’t stop to let her touch him, he needed his hands, his mouth, his nose, everything—touching her, squeezing, pulling. He pulled her out of the elevator by her breasts and she moaned with such pleasure and pain that he dropped them and fumbled with his belt and zipper because the pressure of his clothes on his cock was unbearable.
“Keys, keys, keys, apartment, apartment,” she whispered, then dropped to her knees and lunged for his cock, and he grabbed her breasts again and pulled, then lifted his hands to her hair and dragged her, on her knees, his cock in her mouth, towards his apartment door. He mouth-fucked her, holding her head with one hand while fumbling for his keys with the other.
“Fuck, god, Florence.” He made inarticulate sounds, and thought If she laughs, I will slap her, and hoped she would laugh, but she didn’t—just eased off his cock for a second.
“Keys?” she said.
“Keys,” he groaned. Let go of her head with his other hand. Keys. Pockets. Cock. Mouth. Tongue. Teeth. Thrust. Thrust—and hold still. Gag. Withdraw. Oh-fuck.
He felt her hands on his legs, under his coat.
“Keys.” She fished them out of his pocket, placed them in his hands, then returned her mouth and attention to his cock.
He had no idea how he managed to open the door, but he did, and he dragged her across its threshold, still on her knees, her mouth still on his cock, and then pulled out of her and crashed on top of her. Eyes. Nose. Cheeks. Chin. Lips. Mouth full of hair.
Clothes, too many clothes.
They went flying, coats, scarves. His shirt, her bra. His pants. Her leggings.
“Fuck, I love this dress,” he said. It was soft and pink and velvety, trimmed with soft fur. Outrageously kitschy. Outrageously gorgeous.
“Did you change into this just for me?” he said, pulling it down over her chest and belly, and then yanking her breasts out of the V-neckline.
“Lesbian engagement party,” she murmured into his neck. “We all had to wear pink and fur.” She laughed, and he… he didn’t dare slap her, he was too keyed up to control that, but he covered her mouth with his hand. Did not pull off the dress, just shoved it up higher, and pulled the panties down between her knees. Kept them there too.
“They will tear,” she whispered, trying to wiggle out of them.
“Leave them.” He stopped her. Kisses. Freckles. Neck. He pressed her face against his chest, just to feel… just to feel.
Fuck. God. Florence.
Her hands on his cock.
Her voice in his ear. “We need condoms.”
Fucking condoms.
His hand between her legs. So slick, so soft. Heaven.
“Florence?” he said her name, and its syllables were a nightingale’s song in his ears, head, heart. “We need to make it to the bedroom. That’s where the condoms are.” He spoke very slowly as if drunk, but he was so sober and he was so happy. “We can do it. But don’t you fucking dare stop kissing me as we go,” he said, and he kissed her, and wrapped his arms and legs around her. “And we can’t get up.”
“We can’t get up?” she said, tangling her limbs with his.
“We can’t,” he said. “The world will end. Can we do it?”
“Or die trying.” She chewed on his neck. Clavicle.
He slid his hands under her body and heaved her forward. “Don’t stop the kissing,” he reminded her.
She didn’t. Fuck, she didn’t, and by the time they made it to the bedroom and he was sliding the condom on, he was also thinking—or not thinking so much as feeling—that there was no need for the condom, for penetration, for orgasm—this was utter bliss and heaven and fulfillment, but then, cock covered, he slid into her, and oh-my-fucking-god, there was more bliss.
“What did you say?” she asked after he came. They were still laying on the floor, although he rolled off her and brought her up on top of him—more than that he couldn’t do. They were both wet, slick with sweat, and Will was getting cold…
“Are you cold?” he asked her.
Florence shook her head.
“What did you say?” she repeated.
“I thought the word bliss, repeatedly, for perhaps the first time in my life,” he said into the hair just above her ear. “Before coming, no less. Very unmanly.”
Florence laughed.
Kissed the tip of his nose.
“Come to the bed,” she said, pulling him up.
They slid under the covers, and she climbed on top of him, resting her pussy just above his spent cock, and then sliding it onto his left hip bone.
“Will? This is no way a reflection on your performance, which was fabulous,” she said, moving her hips up and down and then grinding herself against his hip. “So fabulous, in fact, that I desperately need another orgasm just because I’m laying here beside you.”
He kissed her and reached for her ass.
“No.” She breathed into his chest. “You don’t need to do… anything.”
He lay still, one hand on her ass cheek, one hand in her hair, and felt her moving and felt her breathing and felt her explode on his hip, and then he held her close so he could feel every single vibration.
“Fuck,” she said.
Bliss, he thought.
Sleep, he thought, and tightened his arms around her. But she was wiggling out.
“Babysitter,” she said. Kissed his nose.
“You did good, Will,” she said, as she had in the liquor store earlier. “I’m proud of you.”
It didn’t sound patronizing.
He watched her move through the bedroom, into the hallway, hunting for clothes.
He was going to see her again. Did she know that?
WANT MORE?
😈 CLEAN (mostly) EXCERPT:Will and Florence’s first date 😈
And, go to mjanecolette.com/TextMeCupid, where we’re releasing all the scenes from the first episode of Text Me, Cupid through November and December.
SOLD?
ADD TO GOODREADS
And remember, the Text Me, Cupid online launch party runs until December 13, 2018–visit the participating blogs and leave comments and tweets for a chance to win fab books.
TEXT ME, CUPID LAUNCH PARTY DATES & ADDRESSES
mjanecolette
STAY IN TOUCH
TellMe@mjanecolette.com
INSTAGRAM * Twitter * GOODREADS * Facebook * LOVE LETTERS
mjanecolette.com
💕 GET A FREE BOOK! 💕
m jane colette 