Chapter Cara #2
“So sweet,” he groans against me. “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Could eat this pussy for hours.”
“Oh god—”
He seals his mouth over my clit and sucks, and I nearly black out.
My hands fist in his hair. My thighs shake around his head. He’s eating me like he means it—tongue stroking, lips sucking, fucking me with his mouth like he’s trying to crawl inside me. The sounds are obscene. Wet and messy and desperate.
“Theo—fuck—Theo—”
He slides two fingers inside me and I clench around them immediately, my body desperate and greedy. He pumps them slowly at first, then faster, curling them to find that spot while his tongue works my clit.
“That’s it.” His voice vibrates against me. “Ride my face, sunshine. Use me. Take what you need.”
I’m gone. Beyond thought. Beyond shame. I grind against his mouth, chasing it, and he takes everything I give him and demands more.
“You gonna come for me?” He thrusts his fingers deeper, harder. “Gonna come all over my face? Make a mess of me?”
“Yes—god—yes—”
“Do it.” He curls his fingers and sucks hard on my clit. “Come for me, Cara. Let me taste it.”
I shatter.
The orgasm tears through me, so intense my vision whites out. I’m clenching around his fingers, screaming his name, shaking so hard I nearly fall off the bench. He works me through every wave, gentling his touch as I come down, until I’m gasping and boneless.
When I can see again, he’s standing between my thighs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His chin is wet. His eyes are black with want.
“Good?” he asks.
I grab his belt and yank him toward me.
“Inside me. Now.”
He laughs, breathless and strained. “Bossy.”
“Theo, I swear to god, if you don’t—”
He kisses me, cutting off my threat. I taste myself on his tongue—sweet and musky—and it makes me moan into his mouth. My fingers fumble with his belt, his button, his zipper, and then I’m shoving his jeans down and wrapping my hand around his cock.
He hisses, hips jerking into my grip.
God, he’s big. Thick and hard and leaking at the tip, and at the base, his knot is already starting to swell. I stroke him once, twice, and he grabs my wrist to stop me.
“If you keep doing that, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.”
“Then get inside me.”
He lines himself up, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. We’re both breathing hard, staring at each other.
“I love you,” he says.
The words hit me like a punch. “What?”
“I love you.” He pushes in, just the tip, and we both gasp. “I’ve loved you for ten years. I never stopped. I need you to know that before—” He pushes deeper and his voice breaks. “Before I lose the ability to form sentences.”
“Theo—”
“You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know.”
“I love you too.”
Now he’s the one who freezes. “What?”
“I love you.” I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him deeper. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I never stopped. Not for a single day.”
“Cara.”
He buries himself to the hilt in one hard thrust.
We both cry out. He’s so deep, stretching me so wide, his knot pressing against my entrance. I’ve never felt so full.
“Fuck.” His forehead drops to my shoulder, his whole body shaking. “You feel—god, you feel incredible. So tight. So slick. Squeezing me so fucking good.”
“Move.” I dig my nails into his back. “Theo, please. I need you to move.”
He does.
Long, deep strokes that have me gasping. He pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in, hitting that spot inside me that makes me see stars. Again. Again. The potting bench creaks beneath us.
“That’s it.” His voice is ragged. “Take my cock. Fuck, you take it so well. Like you were made for me.”
“I was.” I’m moaning with every thrust now. “Made for you. Made for this.”
“Mine.” He grips my hip with one hand, tilts my face up with the other so I have to look at him. “Say it.”
“Yours.”
“Again.”
“Yours, Theo. I’m yours. I’ve always been—oh fuck—”
He’s fucking me harder now. Deeper. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the greenhouse. I can feel his knot swelling with every thrust, catching on my rim, stretching me wider each time.
“Feel that?” He slams into me, his knot tugging at my entrance. “Feel my knot getting bigger? Stretching this tight little pussy?”
“Yes—god—yes—”
“Gonna lock you to me.” Another brutal thrust. “Gonna knot you so deep. Fill you up until you’re dripping with my cum. You want that?”
“Please—”
“Want everyone to smell me on you? Know that you’re claimed? That this pussy belongs to me?”
“Yes—Theo—please—I need—”
“Touch yourself.” His thrusts are getting rougher, his knot catching harder. “Make yourself come on my cock. Want to feel you squeeze me when I knot you.”
My hand flies between us. My fingers find my clit and I’m already so sensitive, so close. Three strokes. Two.
“Come,” he growls. “Now.”
I fall apart.
The orgasm hits me like a freight train. I’m clenching around him, screaming, my whole body locking up. And then his knot swells completely, locking us together, and the stretch of it triggers another wave of pleasure that has me sobbing his name.
He comes with a roar.
I feel it—the hot pulse of him spilling inside me, filling me up. His knot throbs, tying us together, and my body ripples around him, milking every drop. It goes on and on, endless waves of heat and fullness.
When it finally ebbs, we’re both trembling. Clinging to each other. Still locked together, his knot pulsing gently inside me.
“Holy shit,” I manage.
He laughs weakly against my neck. “Yeah. That about covers it.”
We stay like that for a long moment. Just breathing. His heart pounding against my chest.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi.” He lifts his head and kisses me softly. “You’re staying.”
“I’m staying.”
“And you love me.”
“And I love you.”
“Good.” He’s grinning now, wide and goofy and so perfectly Theo. “Because I’m not sure I can let you go after that.”
I shift experimentally, feeling him pulse inside me. His knot won’t go down for a while—twenty minutes, maybe more. We’re stuck here, on his potting bench, in his greenhouse.
“We made a mess,” I say, looking around at the scattered pots and spilled soil.
“Worth it.” He carefully maneuvers us so he’s sitting on a stool with me in his lap, still connected. His arms wrap around me, warm and secure. “I’d destroy the whole greenhouse for this.”
“That seems counterproductive for a nursery owner.”
“Don’t care.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I’d burn it all down and start over if it meant having you like this.”
I rest my head on his shoulder and breathe him in. Earth and honeysuckle and sex and us. Our scents tangled together so completely I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.
“Say it again,” he murmurs against my hair.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you, Theo Holt. I’m staying in Honeyridge Falls. I’m never running away again.” I press a kiss to his throat. “Happy?”
“Deliriously.” He squeezes me tighter. “I’m going to be insufferable about this. Fair warning.”
“Insufferable how?”
“Just... very happy. Annoyingly, aggressively happy. Lucas is going to hate it.”
“Lucas can deal.”
“He really can.” Theo’s smile softens as he looks at me. “God, I can’t believe this is real.”
“It’s real.” I squeeze him back. “I promise.”
His knot finally softens, and the sensation of him slipping out of me makes us both shiver. He’s still half-hard, but the urgency has faded into something warmer.
“Come on.” He helps me off his lap, steadying me when my legs wobble. “There’s a bathroom in the cottage. Hot shower. Then I’m making you dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“You just told me you’re moving across the country and that you love me.” He grins, all golden warmth. “The least I can do is feed you.”
“What are you making?”
“Whatever you want.” He hands me my scattered clothes, pulling on his jeans without bothering with underwear. “Risotto again? That pasta you used to love? I’ll make you a seven-course meal if you want. I’ll learn French cooking. I’ll—”
“Theo.” I’m laughing now, helpless and happy. “Risotto is perfect.”
“Risotto it is.” He takes my hand, threads his fingers through mine. “Fair warning, I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you for the next few weeks. Months. Possibly years.”
“I’ll manage.”
We walk to the cottage hand in hand, leaving the mess of scattered pots and spilled soil behind us. The late afternoon sun is painting everything gold.
Theo keeps glancing at me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he looks away too long.
“Stop,” I say, laughing.
“Can’t.” He brings our joined hands up and kisses my knuckles. “Just making sure you’re real.”
I squeeze his hand. “I’m real. I’m here. I’m staying.”
His smile could light up the whole of Honeyridge Falls.