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After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)

“Fuck, where did this dirty mouth of yours come from?” I ask her as she gets up off of her knees.

“I don’t know . . . I always think these things. I just never have the balls to say them,” she says and moves toward the bed.

I almost laugh from her saying “balls.” It’s so unlike her, but tonight she’s in charge and she knows it. I can tell she’s enjoying this, having me at her complete and utter mercy.

This dress she has on is enough to break any man. The way the fabric clings to her every curve, every dip in her flawless skin, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. That is, until she pulls it over her head, tossing it at me playfully. I can literally feel my eyes straining to pop out of my head when I take her body in. The white lace of her bra is barely holding her full breasts inside, and her matching panties are bunched up on one side, revealing the soft skin between her hip and pubic bones. She loves to be kissed there, even though I know she’s embarrassed by the thin, almost transparent white lines on her skin. I have no idea why; she is flawless to me, marks and all.

“Your turn.” She smiles and lets her heels hit the bed before she falls backward onto the mattress.

I’ve been dreaming of this since the day she left me. I didn’t think it would ever come, and now that it’s happening, I know that I need to pay attention to every detail because it probably won’t happen again.

I must pause a little bit too long because she cocks her head up and looks at me with a raised brow. “Do I need to start myself?” she teases.

Christ, she’s insatiable right now.

Instead of answering, I join her on the bed. I sit next to her legs and she impatiently tugs at her panties. I move her hands away and pull them down for her.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I say, but she just grabs my hair and pushes my face down where she wants it. I shake my head but give in, pressing my lips against her. She whines and squirms under my tongue as I pay extra attention to her most sensitive bud. I know how much she loves this. I remember the first time I touched her, she had asked, “What is that?”

Her innocence was and still is such a turn-on for me.

“Oh my God, Hardin,” she moans.

I’ve missed that sound. Normally I would say something about how wet she is, how ready, but I can’t find any words. I’m too consumed by her noises and her hands gripping the sheets from the pleasure I’m giving her. I slip one finger inside of her, sliding in and out, and she whimpers.

“More, Hardin, please, more,” she begs, and I give her what she wants. I circle and curl both fingers inside of her before pulling them out and giving her my tongue. I notice her legs stiffening, the way they always do when she’s close. I pull back to watch my fingers rub over her, quickly from side to side, and she screams—literally screams my name—as she comes all over my fingers. I stare at her, taking in every detail, the way her eyes screw shut, the way her mouth forms an almost perfect O, the way her chest and cheeks flush a light pink as she goes through her orgasm. I love her; fuck, do I love her. I can’t help but slide my fingers into my mouth after she finishes. She tastes so good, and it’s something I hope I can remember when she leaves me again.