29. 29
Waiting – Omarion the glide is easy, unhurried, almost torturous.
Another finger slides in alongside the first, his touch confident, possessive, before curling them deep inside, hitting a spot that rips a gasp from my throat.
The sound is so helpless, and there’s no taking it back.
“Good?” he rasps against my cheek.
“God, yes .”
The words barely leave me before his pace shifts, fingers moving with a precision that steals my breath. They curl up, finding that perfect, aching spot deep inside me, pressing just right—over and over—until my toes curl and my thighs tighten around him.
“Lift up your shirt for me, love,” he murmurs. I do, and his breath comes heavy, a low groan slipping out at the sight of my breasts. His mouth closes over one nipple, sucking hard, and my head tips back on a gasp.
I’m trembling, and my nails dig into his shoulder as my pleasure starts to build.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel the need to hide any part of this.
Not the way I moan into his mouth. Not the way I shake.
Not the way my body gives in so shamelessly, clinging to him like I was meant to be here all along.
Because it’s him .
And with Michael, it feels different.
“You gonna come for me, Freckles?” he growls into my ear. “All over my fucking fingers?”
I whimper at his words, my breath catching.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his mouth trailing along my jaw. “So fucking wet for me. Your cunt’s choking my fingers, baby. You gonna let go for me now?”
That does it. My orgasm slams into me hard enough to make my legs feel like jelly.
I cry out, but his mouth is already on mine, swallowing every sound.
His kiss is rough, all-consuming, as his tongue tangles with mine like he owns it.
The aftershocks roll through me in waves, each curl of his fingers pulling another shiver from me, but he doesn’t stop kissing me.
Doesn’t stop holding me like he’s claiming every piece I tried to hide.