Chapter 30
Hew was more than ready for a turn.
In fact, he’d been so worked up from watching her body reach for orgasm time and again—from feeling her growing softer and hotter and wetter by the minute—that by the time he’d finally pushed her over the edge, by the time her inner walls had clamped down on his fingers with enough force to rub his knuckles together, he’d nearly lost it.
Had nearly blown his passion all over her back.
Now? He could so easily pull her beneath him. So easily plunge inside her wet, willing body. He’d more than made sure she was prepared to accommodate him.
And if he was being honest, a huge part of him was tempted to do exactly that. But a bigger part of him, the part that had spent months fantasizing about this moment, dreaming of everything he would do to her, demanded he take his time.
Besides, even though he’d touched her in ways that had left a brand on his brain, he had yet to taste her.
And good god! I need to taste her!
He used the tricks he’d learned while teasing her breasts with his fingers to tease them with his tongue. He swirled. He flicked. He sucked—always careful of her bruised flesh—until she was once again mewling and wiggling and begging.
Her bucking hips rubbed her hot juices along his length because she’d wrapped her pretty legs around his waist. And by the time he moved down her body—skating his lips along her ribs, dipping his tongue into her belly button, nipping at the jut of her hip bones—he had to press his dick hard into the mattress to find some relief for the ache she’d built.
His nostrils flared at the scent of her. Warm, healthy, recently sated woman. His mouth watered in anticipation when he hooked her knees over his shoulders. And his gaze narrowed at the sight of her so close. So swollen and pink. So ready and willing.
Her clitoris was engorged, peeking past its little hood and begging him for more attention. With a feral growl, he obliged, covering it with his mouth.
She was sweet and salty. Tart and tangy. Everything a woman should be.
He wanted to rub his lips all over her, bury his face so deep that her scent and essence slicked his entire face. Instead, he settled in and slowly feasted.
Just like with her breasts, he’d learned how she liked to be teased. Liked to be rubbed. And he used his tongue to torment her, to push her back up the mountain of passion until she teetered at the brink.
He didn’t delay her gratification this time. Instead, he slipped two fingers deep inside her core, rubbed his tongue gently against the hard nub at the top of her sex, and let her fling herself over the edge.
Her flavor exploded in his mouth at the same time her body exploded in pleasure.
She was a goddess taking her fill after being worshiped the way she was meant to be. And he was the lucky bastard, the mere mortal, she’d deigned to let please her.
The harsh sound of her rapid breaths met his ears when her thighs finally fell away from his face. The hold she had on his hair loosened. And the hard pulse of her body around his fingers settled to mere flutters.
He kissed the inside of her thigh. Nipped her hip bone. Swirled his tongue into her belly button. And gently laved her nipple on his journey back up her body.
Then, he lay beside her, watching her breasts rise and fall, memorizing the way her belly quivered, and loving the pink flush that tinted every inch of her skin.
His dick flexed in entreaty. But honestly, if she’d said she was done, if she’d told him she couldn’t continue, he’d have been satisfied. Because pleasing her was better than any orgasm he’d ever had and—
“Now it’s definitely your turn,” she declared, her eyes languid and hot when she shoved him onto his back and straddled him.
Oh, thank god.
“Ya don’t have to—”
“Maybe I should’ve said it’s my turn to have my way with you,” she growled as she claimed his mouth.
If he’d thought having her splayed out in front of him was heaven, then there wasn’t a word for what it was like having her on top of him.
Her breasts brushed his chest. Her thighs cradled his hips. And he couldn’t help spanning her waist before slipping his hands around to grab the full, round globes of her ass.
He grumbled his disappointment at having to let go when she started mapping his torso with her mouth. Then he groaned with pleasure when her lips found his nipples, his ribs, his belly, his…
She stopped an inch above the head of his cock. It flexed toward her, begging when her breath sent licks of heat over him.
“Touch me. Lick me. Suck me,” he wanted to tell her. But he wasn’t sure she was ready for demands.
Instead, he held his breath and waited, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb smoothing along her jawline. Not coaxing. Not cajoling. Simply accepting whatever she wanted to take. Whatever she wanted to give.
“Can I touch you?” Her words sounded ragged.
He let out a harsh breath he hadn’t even known he was holding. “God, yes. Please.”
Without delay, she wrapped her fingers around his needy dick and tugged.
His toes curled. His hand fisted the sheets. And now he was the one gasping and whimpering and unable to stop himself from bucking into her grip because it brought such sweet relief. Such unimaginable pleasure.
She made everything so much better—or worse?—when she swallowed his head and he was lost in the hot haven of her mouth. In the wicked flick of her tongue. In the hard suction of her lips.
His eyes rolled back so far it was a wonder he couldn’t see his own brain when she set about her task in earnest. Stroking his shaft as she bobbed and sucked and bobbed and sucked.
He’d known pleasure. He’d known passion. But he’d never known anything to compare to the sensation of Sabrina’s hands and mouth on him.
He couldn’t help himself. He looked down to see her pale hand working his turgid length. Her wide mouth stretched tight around his girth. And her hair spread across his thighs like a dark curtain.
It was better than his fantasies. Because she didn’t tease. She didn’t torment. She simply sucked and stroked with a determined tempo that had him groaning and begging.
Too soon he was slipping toward the point of no return.
“Sabrina.” He fisted a hand in her silky hair to stop her delicious ministrations. “Ya gotta stop, sweetheart, or I’m—”
He gritted his teeth when the head of his cock popped free of her mouth. It was so swollen it was nearly purple. Shiny from the hot lash of her tongue.
“Do you have a condom?”
He blinked at the question. Then cursed when reality hit.
When he’d followed her upstairs, he’d had no idea this was where they’d end up. He hadn’t thought. Hadn’t come prepared.
“In my room,” he rasped, the need for release making his words ragged.
“Do you want me to stop so you can go get one?” She shook her head. “Because I don’t want to stop.”
“But—”
“I want you in my mouth.” She continued to stroke him languidly. “I want to feel you straining against my tongue. I want to taste you when you cum.”
“Sabrina…”
He’d pleasured her with his fingers. He’d pleasured her with his mouth. He wanted to finish her off with his dick, but he couldn’t think with her hands still working him. He could hardly breathe from the thought of her sucking him off.
She must’ve taken her whispered name as acquiescence. Because her mouth was on him again. The hot, slick, sucking wonder that was her lips and teeth and tongue.
He tried to hold on. Tried not to let the beast in him take over. But it was too late.
His self-control shattered, and he was thrusting up into her firm fist, into her magical mouth.
She hummed her pleasure. Almost purring in feline triumph. And it reverberated through his shaft until—
He groaned her name. Half sitting up as hot jets of pleasure poured from his body and into her mouth.
She took him. Worked him. Wrung every last drop from him as he shuddered and shook. As his orgasm seemed to stretch on forever and ever. As the world disappeared and all that remained was her and him and bliss like nothing he’d experienced before.
He didn’t remember collapsing back against the mattress. He didn’t recall when she released him and crawled up beside him. He didn’t come back into himself until a long time later, when he felt her leaving little kisses on his shoulder while her talented fingers played with the hair on his chest.
“Will you sign my ass?” she asked when the blood rushing between his ears had quieted to a dull roar.
Blinking open his eyes, he watched as the ceiling slowly came into focus. Surely, he’d misheard her.
“Hmm?”
“Will you sign my ass?” she said again. “I want to get a tattoo to remember this moment.”
He chuckled and pulled her close. Kissing the top of her head. Loving that she could still tease after what they’d just done together.
“Sure thing,” he told her. “As soon as I remember my name.”
She pushed up on her elbow and blinked down at him in mock confusion. “What is your name, by the way?”
“After that?” He motioned to where his cock lay against his thigh, happy and spent. “You can call me anything ya want.”
She giggled and tucked her head into the space between his chin and his heart. It seemed perfectly made to fit her cheek. “I think I’ll call you Mr. Eighth Wonder of the World.”
He was grinning ear to ear, gently running a fingertip up the delicate divot of her spine.
“You’ve got a great ass,” he told her. “But I’m not sure it’s big enough for a tattoo that long.”
“You’re probably right. How disappointing.”
“God, woman, I—”
He stopped mid-sentence, the words shriveling up in the back of his throat like slugs hit by salt.
He’d almost said, I love you.