Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty Three
Adrian
Her breathing evens out against my chest, warm and steady. She is soft and trusting in my arms. Her weight is a comforting pressure, a grounding presence in a world that has felt tilted off its axis for days.
The aftershocks of her pleasure still ripple through her, and I feel a primal surge of satisfaction. I gave her that. I took the fear and the trauma and the confusion of the last few days, and for a few minutes, I replaced it with mindless bliss.
My side is a dull, throbbing ache, a reminder of my limits. But with her here, it feels distant, unimportant.
My cock, however, is not.
It is still rock-hard, an insistent pressure against her hip.
I want her.
I want to be inside her more than I have wanted my next breath.
But I wait.
I will take this at her pace. And if she falls asleep before anything else happens tonight, I am okay with that.
Just having her here is enough.
I stroke her hair, and she lets out a contented sigh before lifting her head. Her eyes are soft, a little dazed, but clear. Her lips are swollen and red from my kisses. My cock throbs in response.
She smiles, a slow, sexy, knowing smile.
"My turn," she says, and before I can stop her, she shifts down my body.
I catch her shoulders. "Caterina, you don't have to."
She looks up at me, her eyes darkening with something that looks a lot like challenge. "I know. I want to."
She doesn't give me a chance to argue further.
She trails her lips down my throat, down my chest, her tongue flicking out to taste my skin. Her hands follow, her fingers exploring the contours of my muscles, tracing the lines of my scars.
She is worshipping my body with her touch, and I am undone.
My hands fist in the sheets, a desperate attempt to hold on to some semblance of control.
When she gets to my injury, my fists tighten further in anticipation of the pain.
But her touch becomes even more gentle, if possible. Her lips press a soft kiss to the bruised skin beside the dressing. Her fingers dance around it, never touching it directly.
The gesture is so tender, so unexpectedly intimate, that it almost hurts more than the wound itself.
This is yet another new side of Caterina. Gentle and caring.
She doesn't give it brief attention and move on, either. She takes her time about it, moving her lips over every inch of the skin around it. Then I realize she's testing. Finding my boundaries. Making sure she doesn't cause me more pain.
Her expression is serious as she studies the wound, the bruising, the ugly purple and black of it. She seems to be memorizing it.
She is not looking at me as a client. Or a lover. She is looking at me as a man who was shot protecting her. She's trying to process it, I think.
Her eyes are filled with a complex mix of emotions. Guilt. Awe. Fear. Gratitude.
She's thinking about the last couple of days, too.
I can't stand it.
My fingers go under her chin, gently tilting her head up to look at me.
"Hey," I say, my voice softer than I intend. "I'm fine."
She nods, but her eyes are still serious.
I know what she's doing. She's trying to fix this, too. She's trying to take away the pain with her touch, the same way she tried to give me pleasure to make me forget.
A wave of something that feels like a lot more than affection washes over me.
Her eyes meet mine, and I see the shift in them.
She's back in the present. She's back with me.
She lowers her head and kisses my stomach, just above my wound.
Then she moves lower.
Her hands slide down my sides as her tongue dips into my navel, and I have to bite back a curse.
My hips lift off the bed, a silent, desperate plea.
She laughs, a soft, husky sound that goes straight to my cock.
"So impatient," she teases, her lips brushing against my skin.
I am. God, I am.
I want her mouth on me. I want it more than I have ever wanted anything.
She seems to understand this, but it doesn't make her move any faster.
She continues her slow and thorough exploration with soft, open-mouthed kisses. Her hands trace my hip bones, her tongue following the line of my obliques.
She's making me wait.
Making me want.
It's exquisite torture.
My abs clench as her lips brush over them.
My control is hanging by a thread.
She kisses my hips and nibbles for just a moment, her eyes flashing up to meet mine as she does it. I am mesmerized. My whole body is thrumming with need for her. I can't remember ever feeling like this with another woman.
Then she shifts, and my heart stops.
Her hair falls like a curtain around my hips, the soft strands tickling my thighs. Her breath is a warm puff of air against my length, and a shudder runs through me.
I am completely at her mercy.
And I find that I do not mind it one bit.
Her gaze is fixed on my cock.
She seems fascinated.
Slowly, she reaches out and runs a single finger from my base to my tip.
I suck in a sharp breath.
Her touch is a spark on a trail of gasoline.
My whole body tenses, every muscle coiled tight and ready to snap.
She looks up at me again, her eyes dark and questioning.
I answer with my own.
Please.
God, please.
She gives me a small, wicked smile, and then she leans in and licks the pre-cum from the tip.
My hips jerk off the bed, a choked groan tearing from my throat.
"Shhh," she whispers again, teasing me.
I don't know how the hell I'm going to be quiet. Not with her.
She lowers her head and...
Bypasses my tip completely.
Instead, she presses her lips to the base of my cock and continues her little exploratory kisses and nibbles. The sensation is maddening. Intense. I can't tear my eyes away from her.
She takes her sweet ass time about it, too. Her lips and tongue explore every ridge and vein in teasing little kisses and licks.
My head falls back against the pillows, my knuckles white where I'm gripping the sheets, a long string of curses running through my head. I can't make a sound. I can't. If I make a sound, this ends. And this cannot end.
She is driving me crazy.
I know this is what she wants. To drive me crazy. To have me as desperate for her as I was last night.
And it's working.
It's so, so working.
Her hair whispers against my skin as she shifts. Her scent, clean and sweet, fills my senses.
By the time she reaches my tip again, I'm about ready to combust.
And still, she doesn't take me in right away.
She swirls her tongue around my head, teasing the sensitive underside.
I can't stop my hips from moving now, a small, helpless thrust against her lips. The pain in my side is a distant memory compared to what she's doing to me. All I can think about is her.
Her touch. Her taste. Her.
She finally, finally takes pity on me. Her tongue teases the sensitive underside of my cock, and pre-cum leaks from the tip. She gathers it with the tip of her tongue, and my whole body tightens. I'm trying to stay quiet. I am. But this woman is testing the very limits of my control.
I've never been this turned on in my entire life.
"Cat," I grit out. The warning is clear.
She looks up at me. I'm looking at her, my expression dark, intense. I'm thinking very unprofessional thoughts.
Her lips part as she finally, slowly, takes me into her mouth.
I forget my own name.
I forget everything.
Her tongue...
Her tongue is doing things to me that I'm going to be thinking about for the rest of my life.
My breathing is ragged.
My body is taut as a bowstring.
My cock slowly disappears between her perfect lips. Her eyes are locked on mine, watching me the whole time.
She's not just sucking my dick. She's savoring me. Worshipping me.
I'm a religious experience for her. She's a religious experience for me. The most beautiful, dangerous religion I've ever seen. And I will worship at her altar for the rest of my life.
My control is completely gone. My hips are moving in a steady rhythm. She is letting me fuck her mouth, her lips and tongue working me in a way that is both submissive and in complete control.
My hands are in her hair now, my fingers tangled in the silky strands.
I'm being too rough.
I try to slow down, pull back.
Her response is to take me deeper.
I see her cheeks hollow out. I feel the suction. Her other hand comes up to cup my balls, and I am done for. Utterly, completely, and totally done for.
The pressure is building. A tidal wave of pleasure is gathering at the base of my spine, and I know I'm not going to last. Not like this. Not with her.
"Caterina," I warn again, my voice raw and ragged.
She just moans around my cock and takes me deeper. I feel the head of my cock touch the back of her throat. Her throat constricts.
I hold still, the pleasure impossibly intense. I think about what it's going to feel like when I come down her throat.
But not yet. I'm not done yet. I should finish, so she can stop. But the selfish bastard in me wants more.
And then I see her.
Her hips are moving, a slow, subtle grinding against the mattress. She is getting off on this. On pleasuring me. On my taste.
On my pleasure.
The thought sends a fresh jolt of electricity through me, a dark, possessive thrill that chases the pleasure.
I tighten my grip in her hair.
"Look at me," I command.
Her eyes lift to mine, dark and dazed with her own desire.
I start to move again, a slow, deliberate thrusting into her mouth. I set the pace now. She accepts it, her hands gripping my hips as she takes what I give her.
My gaze is locked with hers. I am watching her. I am watching her take my cock, her lips stretched around me, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.
She is beautiful. She is mine.
The wave is cresting now, my whole body tensing in anticipation.
"I'm going to come." It's a guttural sound. Possessive. "Right down your throat."
Her eyes widen a little at my words.
One hand still gripped tightly in her hair, I use the other to gently stroke her throat.
"You're going to take it all," I growl. "You're going to take me deep and swallow every last drop. Understand?"