8
He broke off the kiss and the growl gurgling in his chest burst out. The thought that Whistle might have had his mouth anywhere on her was bad enough. But, her p***y? With a heaving breath, he caressed the wisps of blond along the outline of her temple.
And he took a knee in front of her.
Pressing his nose to the apex of her thighs, he breathed in deeply and said, “I’m going to fuckin’ devour you.” Her legs were trembling, but she was so wet he could f*****g smell it. It was so strong, he didn’t know if he was particularly sensitive to her scent, but the idea that another man might have had the privilege almost threw him into a frenzy. He had to make this good for her. He. Had. To.
“Holy s**t, holy s**t, holy s**t,” she murmured repeatedly as he undid her jean shorts and yanked them
