Chapter 35 #4
He reared up, momentarily getting lost in the beauty of her taking him in a way no woman had ever claimed him.
He cried out, his hands going gently into her hair, fiercely riding the rhythm of her mouth, until his chest was heaving.
The dam was about to break. He could feel it, a terrifying, magnificent crest.
"Blair, fuck," he gasped, his fingers tightening against her scalp, not to push her away, but to hold on. "I can't... It's too much. I can't..."
Her response was simple. She pushed on his chest, a firm, steady pressure between his pectorals. It wasn't a forceful shove, but a command, a silent, undeniable assertion of her will. It was the final straw. He lost the battle.
She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard, and the need that had been building in him finally broke. It wasn't a gentle wave. It was a tsunami. The pleasure didn't just crest, but detonated deep in his core, a seismic event that ripped through his mind, flesh and heart.
His entire body went rigid, his back bowing violently off the bed as he jackknifed upward.
A raw, guttural sound was ripped from his chest, something primal and unrestrained, as he came hard.
The release wrecked him in the sweetest violence, a shuddering convulsion, a series of powerful, rhythmic pulses that started at the base of his spine and erupted from him in an all-consuming flood of exquisite pleasure.
It felt like his soul was being torn from his body and offered up to her, every muscle, every nerve, every atom of his being consumed by the force of his surrender.
He collapsed back onto the bed, boneless and spent, his chest heaving.
He was hers. Utterly, completely, and irrevocably hers.
She crawled up his body, lace and silky skin a whispering caress against his sensitized body. She settled heavily against his chest, her weight a welcome anchor, a solid warmth that grounded him in the aftermath of the storm.
"Now rest in my arms, Kelly," she murmured, her voice a low, soothing rumble against his ear. "Let me hold you and just sleep."
He couldn't hold back the tears that slipped from his eyes, hot and silent, tracing paths through the sweat on his temples.
The tears were also a release, a dam breaking inside him.
Her arms wrapped around him, a secure, unconditional embrace, and in that moment, he understood.
She took what had broken him, all the fear and the numbness and the desperate, lonely control, and transformed it into something so beautiful, something he'd never thought he'd have… safety. Acceptance. Home.
"Blair," he whispered, her name a ragged prayer on his lips, the only word that mattered.
She kissed his neck, a soft, lingering press of her lips that was more comforting than carnal.
Then his jaw, and finally his mouth, a gentle, possessive kiss that tasted of salt and surrender.
Getting lost with her wasn't hard. Fuck, easy fucking day.
She slipped her hands into his hair, her fingers combing through the damp strands as she pulled the blankets over them, creating a warm, private world.
She cradled him against her, her heartbeat a steady, reassuring rhythm beneath his ear, and he dropped into slumber with a sated, soft breath, knowing that this was right.
Blair lay tangled in the sheets, the heavy weight of him a delicious anchor against her body.
His breath was a slow, even rhythm against her neck, warm and deep in sleep.
She held him, her arms wrapped securely around his broad shoulders, and felt a profound, humbling stillness settle over the room.
This was her doing. She had pushed him to this edge, stepped into the dark room he’d hidden in, and refused to let him drown alone.
The terrifying, exhilarating truth was, he had been ready.
He’d been standing on that precipice, trembling with fear and want, and all he’d needed was for her to tell him it was safe to fall.
She tightened her grip, her fingers tracing the damp, sweat-slicked skin of his back.
A raw, honest thought cut through the quiet: she hadn't done this to heal him.
That was the noble lie she could have told herself, the selfless justification.
But it was a lie. She was here because she craved him with a hunger that bordered on violence.
The moment he filled her mouth, she was lost to the taste of him, a delicious, salty, uniquely male flavor that was pure need.
The heat of him was a shock, a velvet brand against her tongue that made her own body clench with a desperate ache.
A slick, answering heat flooded her core, her panties instantly damp as she throbbed with a primal, urgent hunger for the full, deep penetration of him, to feel that same thick heat stretching and claiming her from the inside out.
She wanted this, the raw intensity, the shattered control, the way he came apart in her hands because it was a fire that only he could light in her. This wasn't about mending his broken pieces. It was about claiming the magnificent, dangerous power he possessed when he finally let go.
God, his intensity. No man had ever reacted to her like this.
They’d wanted her, desired her, but none of them had ever come undone for her.
None of them had ever looked at her with a mixture of terror and worship, had fought her with their last shred of control only to surrender so completely.
He made her hum, a low, steady vibration of pure, primal power that started deep in her gut and spread through every limb.
Holding him now, feeling his utter surrender in the dead weight of his body, she didn't feel like a savior or a martyr. She’d listened to him talk, her heart breaking for him, and he’d been brave enough to let her see him.
She knew exactly what she was choosing. This man was a risk, a beautiful, dangerous risk to her heart.
He was a minefield of past trauma and deep-seated fear.
He could hurt her. He probably would, in ways she couldn't even predict.
She wanted that risk, that danger, because the alternative, a life without this feeling, without this man, was a flat, colorless wasteland.
She chose him, not in spite of his darkness, but because of it.
She chose the challenge, the risk, the breathtaking possibility of loving a man who fought so hard to be worthy of it.
In the quiet aftermath, a profound understanding settled within her.
This had been more than showing him safety or offering release.
She had taken his surrender for herself, a gift he trusted her to hold.
In that moment of his undoing, she met his power not as a victor, but as an equal.
Their combined force crested and broke between them, a convergence where his pleasure in breaking for her was matched only by the way she shattered with him.
Control dissolved, replaced by a raw, shared surrender.
In that collapse, she gave him her own power, trusting him to hold it as he fell, creating something stronger than either of them alone.
She was being purely selfish, and it was the most honest thing she had ever done. She held him closer, pressing a kiss to his damp hair, knowing with absolute certainty that she was exactly where she was meant to be, drowning in the beautiful, dangerous wreckage of the man she had chosen to claim.
God, she had waited so long to get her hands on all this tensile muscle, to feel the gorgeous, coiled energy that radiated from him in waves.
He drove her absolutely crazy, and even now, asleep in her arms, he was still driving that train, a powerful, terrifying force she hoped wouldn't end in wreckage.
She sent her hand drifting through the silk of his hair, and his soft sigh in his sleep worked its way deep inside her, a sound of peace that settled in her bones.
She bent her head, breathed in his clean, earthy scent, sweat and skin and something uniquely him, and closed her eyes, just wanting to live in this moment forever.
“Kelly,” she whispered. “Rest.”