Chapter 22 #2
The world dissolves into a haze of sensation.
The scratch of his stubble against my inner thighs is a delicious friction.
The hot, slick pressure of his tongue is an exquisite torment.
He's methodical, relentless even, using all the focus of a detective to unravel me completely.
He's mapping me, learning every sensitive spot, every gasp and every shudder.
His hands grip my hips, holding me exactly where he wants me, his thumbs pressing into my bones with a possessive pressure that makes me moan.
I'm arching off the wall, my hands fisted in his hair, gasping his name as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, then shatters through me in a blinding wave of release.
I'm still trembling, floating in the aftermath, when he stands back up in front of me.
The sight of him looming there, his face glistening with my arousal in the dim light of my living room, sends a fresh jolt of desire through me.
He makes no move to undress fully bringing his lips back to mine, letting me taste myself on his skin.
Then, he pulls back, his breathing harsh and hot against my lips. His eyes are dark, pinning me in place. “Remember what you told me?” he rasps, his voice a low vibration that I feel in my bones. “A few weeks back, in your kitchen.”
My breath catches immediately. I know exactly what he means instantly.
The tiredness from a long day followed by him trying the mac and cheese with an egg mixed in dinner that I made had filled me with courage, the way the words had tumbled out, a confession I'd immediately regretted. “I definitely shouldn’t find the whole ‘badge on the belt, possibly dangerous’ thing attractive.” A flush creeps up my neck now, a mixture of embarrassment and raw, pulsing need. I can only manage a shaky nod.
His hands go to his belt buckle. The soft clink of metal is the only sound in the room besides my lingering light panting.
He doesn't undo it. He just loosens it slightly, framing the gleaming gold of his shield. He shifts it slightly causing the apartment’s lights to reflect off of it and making his badge flicker like a silent, powerful star.
He holds out a hand. “Come here.”
My legs feel like jelly as he helps me down to my knees on the soft beige carpet beneath us.
The position feels profoundly vulnerable and profoundly right.
He's still fully clothed, a towering figure of authority, and I'm half-naked and at his mercy.
His belt is still buckled, the badge sitting right at his hip like a silent command.
I wish I could take a picture of this, if just to see what I look like on my knees before him.
“You still think my badge on my belt is hot?” His eyes flick down to the badge, then back to mine.
I give a shaky nod in response, unable to find words.
“Then kiss the badge, Liv.”
Electricity shoots through me at his commanding tone. I’d have done it if he’d asked politely, gently even. But the way his voice affects those words, the way his eyes zero in on me like he’s awaiting what I’ll do, makes my core tighten all over again.
I lean forward, the motion requiring me to stretch and press closer to him.
My cheek brushes the rough denim of his jeans.
I can feel the heat radiating from him, smell the clean, masculine scent of his skin.
I close the last inch of space and press my lips to the cool, smooth metal of the shield.
It's a kiss of respect, of surrender, and of acceptance.
A promise. I'm not just kissing a piece of metal; I'm kissing his strength, his protection, and the part of him that stands between the world and me.
When I pull back, his eyes are blazing. He keeps his gaze locked on mine as he finally undoes his fly and frees himself.
The badge is still there, right beside my face, a constant, glittering reminder of who he is.
But now I’m also taking in the length of him, the width of his erection.
He's thick and heavy in my hand, the skin velvet over steel. He’s so hard that I can’t imagine that it isn’t aching.
I lean in again, this time taking him into my mouth. He’s longer than my grip, just long enough to take his head into my mouth and still be able to stroke his length with my hand.
The contrast is intoxicating; the hard, living heat of him against the cool, inanimate symbol of his authority.
I swirl my tongue around his head, tasting the salty bead of moisture there, and he groans in response, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through me.
My eyes flick to the side, and I see it: the badge, gleaming and framed by the dark leather of his belt.
I look at it while I move my hand off his cock to take more of him into my mouth.
He's not just a man; he's my detective. And I am exactly where I want to be.
I lay one of my hands onto my bare thigh while pressing the other between my legs, rubbing my clit as his hand comes to rest on the back of my head.
His fingers tangle in my hair, not forcing, just guiding.
I let him take control. He sets a rhythm, slow and deep at first, then faster and more demanding.
I relax my throat, taking him deeper as I feel his control fraying and his composure cracking.
The sounds he's making now are primal and unrestrained.
The badge shifts softly with his every movement, a steady but hypnotic counterpoint to the ragged sound of his breathing.
“Look at me, Liv,” he commands, his voice tight with strain.
I drag my eyes away from the gold shield and meet his gaze. His pupils are blown, his jaw clenched. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming. He's watching me, watching what I'm doing to him, and the connection between us is a live wire.
With a final, shuddering groan, he finds his release, and I take everything he gives me, my own body humming with a second, smaller wave of pleasure at his breaking that has me coming on my hand.
I pull back, swallowing down everything he gave me then sucking in a big gasp of air.
For a long moment, the only sound is our ragged breathing.
He stays standing for a moment, then sinks to his knees in front of me, pulling me into his arms. He doesn't speak.
He just holds me, his face buried in my hair and his heart pounding against my chest. The badge, still on his belt, presses into my side.