Chapter Thirty #2
“You came?” I ask, breathless, ghosting my thumb across the wet patch.
He bucks under me, grunting like he’s in pain and I drop my hand, eyes snapping up.
Kade chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, baby. That’s all you.”
I swallow hard, shifting on his lap, suddenly becoming aware of how soaked I am. He drags a hand under the shirt, his fingers sliding between my legs, and he freezes, breath catching.
“No panties?” He groans, eyes boring into mine. “You tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me?”
A giggle slips free but it dies on my tongue when his fingers find my soaked clit, circling it with enough pressure to have me trembling all over again.
And when he sinks one inside me, thick and perfect, we both moan. I fall forward, catching myself on his shoulders and stare down at the space between my thighs where Kade is lazily finger-fucking me.
I clench, the ache inside me that never seems to disappear, no matter how many times I come by myself, already alive and throbbing again.
“Look how wet you are, Georgia,” he says, voice guttural as he slips free and holds up his finger, slick and glistening. “You’re dripping all over the place.”
“I’m always this wet when you’re around,” I whisper, cheeks burning as we stare at the wetness and I silently wonder if he’s going to taste it.
Taste me.
“That’s a dangerous thing to tell a man,” he rasps. “Very fuckin’ dangerous.”
And in true Kade fashion, he blows my mind by doing the exact opposite of what I expect him to do.
Some men would ignore that wet, sticky finger entirely. Some would bring it to their mouths and suck the flavor from their skin.
But this man, my man , does neither.
Instead, he brings that finger up and paints it across my lips slowly, pupils dilated, eyes heavy and chest vibrating with a groan.
“How do you taste, freckles?”
A whimper escapes me, skin prickling with awareness as I drag my tongue across my top and bottom lip and swallow.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, dragging my nails down his chest, reveling in the goosebumps that break out under my hands. “Why don’t you try me for yourself?”
His fingers drop between my thighs again, and he doesn’t hesitate to thrust two inside me, curving them to hit my G-spot. I arch against him with a cry.
“Take the fuckin’ shirt off, darlin’. Wanna see your pretty tits bounce while you ride my face,” he demands, slipping free from my core and pushing me to my feet.
My mouth falls open, knees damn near buckling beneath me at the whiplash. “What?”
But he’s already shifting, sliding down the wide couch so he’s flat on his back. He dips a hand into his pants, slowly stroking himself while he watches me.
I bite my lip, and glance at the back wall of windows. “What if somebody sees?”
“Who the fuck would be out back?” He grunts, brows furrowed.
“I don’t know.” My hands flap, heart racing. “Your friends? Your family?”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Barely six in the morning, baby. Anyone’s creepin’ outside my windows this early, they’re gonna get a fuck of a lot more than a show.”
“Like?” I breathe, fingers dancing at the hem of the shirt.
“My fist in their fuckin’ faces. Now lose the shirt.”
Before I can let myself overthink anything, I whip my shirt over my head and drop it on the floor.
Kade goes utterly still.
His hand freezes inside his pants, the slow, rhythmic drag of his palm halting as his eyes eat up every inch of me like he’s starving.
“Holy fuck,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “ Georgia… ”
The way he says my name, hoarse and shocked, like it’s the answer to every question he’s never asked, makes my knees tremble and my throat tight.
I’ve never felt so exposed. Bare and vulnerable in every way. My arms twitch to cover myself—some instinct I learned from the men who came before him.
They looked at me like I was something to tolerate or tame.
But it’s the slow bob of his throat, the way his breathing quickens, muscles bunching… that has me feeling wanted.
Kade looks at me like I hung the moon and it has me wishing with everything in me that I never have to know what it feels like after him.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful, baby,” he breathes, eyes locked on mine before they drift lower—slow and hungry. “Jesus Christ. Look at you .”
He strokes himself again, this time rougher, like he can’t help it, like touching himself to the sight of me is involuntary.
“I knew you were sexy, but this…”
He shakes his head, eyes dragging down to my breasts, lingering on the way they move with each shuddered breath before falling to the space between my legs.
Kade groans, stroking harder, faster, before dragging his gaze back up to my face.
“Every curve and freckle and dip of you is perfect,” he murmurs, eyes holding mine. “But if you took it all away and never let me see or touch you again, I’d still be wrecked and desperate.”
“Kade…” I shake my head. That can’t be true.
“You’ve got no clue what you do to me, do you?”
I swallow hard, heart pounding against my ribcage like it’s trying to escape. Instead of answering, I gesture to his pants.
“Wanna see you,” I whisper. “All of you.”
His jaw tightens, teeth gritted, and slips his hand free, holding it up between us in a loose beckon.
“This isn’t about me,” he murmurs, voice raw. “Not today.”
I take a trembling step forward. “Why?”
His hand wraps around mine and tugs me the rest of the way until I fall into the couch, knees braced on either side of him again. His hands come up to hold my hips, big and warm and strong, grounding me.
“Because, baby,” he says softly, brushing his thumb over the back of my hand like it’s the most important part of me. “You’re sick, and I’m takin’ care of you.”
My throat goes tight. I flick my gaze to the coffee table—the cold tea, the carefully lined-up products, the snacks I still haven’t touched. “You did take care of me.”
Before I can blink, he grabs my hips and lifts me with ease, guiding me over his body. I gasp, hands scrambling for the armrest to catch my balance as I straddle him.
His palms slide up the outside of my thighs, callused and rough and so goddamn reverent it makes my eyes sting.
“That was me caring for you,” he agrees, voice low and thick.
“So is this. Every orgasm. Every scream of pleasure. Every drip of your cum sliding down my throat—that’s all part of me making sure my girl is happy and cared for.
And when you’re exhausted and soft and sated, me wrappin’ you up in my arms and holdin’ you while you sleep… that’s me takin’ care of both of us.”
My throat tightens with something terrifyingly close to tears.
No one has ever said something like that to me.
No one has ever made me feel like this—with their words, with their hands, with their soul .
“I want to take care of you too,” I whisper, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face. “How can I do that when you won’t let me?”
His smile is soft. Devastating. It punches me straight in the chest.
“You wanna take care of me, darlin’?”
“Yes.” I nod, eyes glassy. “I really do.”
He hums low, then smacks my ass, and the sound that rips from my throat is a broken moan.
“Then climb on top of my face and fuck my tongue, because I’m fuckin’ dying for a taste of you.”
Heat crashes through me, my whole body going tight and trembling.
I blink, lips parting in a stunned, breathless gasp. “Kade—”
He cuts me off with another slap, firmer this time. “Go on, baby. Get up there. Lemme take care of you.”
And before I can second guess, before my trauma or fear or the voices in my head can talk me out of it—I move.
Knees braced on either side of his head, my hands grasp the back of the couch as I hover over his face, heart pounding so loud it drowns out everything else.
Kade looks up at me like I’m his last meal. Like I’m sacred.
His hands grip my thighs and he pulls me down, dragging my soaked core over his mouth. And then—
“Oh my God,” I choke out, head falling back.
His tongue parts me with one long, rough lick and my knees nearly give out.
“Fuck,” he grunts, sucking me between his teeth. “You taste like sin and sugar, and I’m starvin’.”
And when he starts to devour me, slow and messy, like he’s got nowhere else to be, I lose every coherent thought I’ve ever had.
Kade Archer eats me like he worships me.
Like he’s not going to stop until I’ve screamed myself hoarse.
And when I do two minutes in… he keeps going, dragging another orgasm from me.
True to his word—to his dreams , the man doesn’t stop bringing me over the edge, no matter how long it takes. He eats me like he’s trying to prove a fucking point, I just don’t know what it is, but I sure as hell won’t stop him.
I’m sweating, shaking, on the edge of another, but it’s too much. My fingers claw at everything—tug on his hair, drag across his shoulders, the couch, my own body.
He groans into me, mouth wet and hot and perfect, his beard scraping my thighs in the best way as he sucks my clit into his mouth and bites down, just enough to make me jolt.
Another finger fucks up into me, stretching me in the most deliciously, drugging way possible, making me slowly lose my mind to pleasure.
“Kade, please!” I cry out, slapping the arm of the couch, body twitching from the overstimulation. “Come with me!”
He shakes his head against me, and I feel the rumble of his voice all the way through my spine.
“Next time I come,” he rasps, voice wrecked, “it’ll be deep inside this perfect, needy cunt. Bare.”
I whimper, my thighs shaking on either side of his head, my whole body teetering on the edge again as I clench around him.
“You want that, baby?” he growls, tongue dragging down to circle my fluttering entrance before licking me clean. “Wanna feel my cock fucking into you, raw and warm, filling you up with my cum?”
My eyes roll back. I nod frantically, lips parted, breathing shallowly. The image alone has me spiraling.
“Tell me,” he demands, fingers thrusting up into me, hard and deep, fucking that spot inside me that makes me see stars.
“Yes,” I cry out, shaking my head back and forth, hair sticking to my sweaty face. “It’s too much, Kade. It’s t-too mu-much. I—”
“It’s not too much,” he barks, teeth grazing my clit again. “Just relax, baby. Relax and let go. Squirt all over my face. Gimme this sweet cum.”
I gape down at him, body shaking so hard I can barely make out his features in the bright light of day.
“I—” I choke, everything inside me winding tight.
“I said give it to me,” he growls, voice unhinged, desperate, raw. “Gimme every fuckin’ drop, Georgia. You’re mine, this pussy’s mine, and I wanna wear your cum like a fuckin’ badge of goddamn honor.”
That does it.
I explode.
Screaming his name so loud I’m sure the walls shake, my body convulses and I shatter, drenching his mouth, his beard, his throat. He moans into me like a man possessed, dragging out every ripple of pleasure, every throb, until I can’t take it anymore.
I collapse onto him, my body limp, boneless, my cheek resting against his slick chest as he shifts us. One of his arms cradles my back, the other strokes my back as I lie on top of him, panting and twitching while my heart pounds wildly against his.
For a long time, I can’t speak. Can’t think. The only thing I can do is float in the afterglow, totally spent.
Eventually, my pulse slows and I shift slightly, just enough to realize the sticky warmth pressed between our stomachs.
I grin into his chest.
Lifting my head slowly, I blink up at him. His cheeks are flushed, his beard glistening, lips parted, pupils blown wide.
“Thought you were waiting till you could fill me,” I rasp, brushing his hair back from his face.
Pink tinges his cheeks even deeper, and he scrubs a hand through his beard, huffing out a breath.
“Tried to hold out,” he mutters, “but how could I when you were screamin’ my name like that?”
“Like what?” I whisper, voice thick with emotion—with everything that just happened.
That was… a lot.
His smile softens, and he tucks a damp curl behind my ear, fingertips brushing my temple with maddening care.
“Like you’re really mine.”
I swallow hard, blinking fast, my heart folding in on itself.
Because I am.
I’m already his.
But I can’t bring myself to say the words yet, so I just smile and lower my head back to his chest, breathing in the wild scent of sweat, sex, and him —and hope he knows I’m trying. That I’m getting closer.
That I’m already his in all the ways that count.