Chapter 2 #2
That made something flicker behind his eyes, something dark and pleased and a little bit feral. He stepped closer, our bodies pressed together as he backed me slowly toward the bed, his hand splayed over my ass, his fingers digging into the plump flesh there.
When the back of my knees bumped the edge of the mattress and I stopped moving backward, I looked up to find Gage studying my face like I was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.
“Tell me what you want,” he said. “I can be slow. Gentle. The kind of man who makes love like a gentleman.” His free hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip with soft tenderness. “Or … I can fuck you hard, like I’ve been dying to do since the second I saw you. Ladies’ choice.”
My breath caught, surprise widening my eyes. Both options had their merits, but this wasn’t about love or romance. What was happening between us was pure, primal need—something I never let myself indulge in.
His eyes flicked down to my mouth and back up again, his pupils taking over his irises. His jaw was tense, giving me the impression he was holding himself together by a fraying thread and letting me decide how it was going to snap.
“I want you to fuck me,” I told him, my voice rough and low. “No holding back.”
“Good girl,” he said smoothly, and I felt every bit of that praise deep in my bones—and other places, too.
The restraint in his expression suddenly shattered, replaced by pure, focused heat. In one swift motion, he yanked my dress off over my head and tossed it backward over his shoulder.
His gaze dragged over me, his breath catching audibly in appreciation. “Goddamn,” he muttered, one hand flexing at his side like he was physically holding himself back from reaching for me. “You’re unreal, Siena. Every single one of my fantasies made flesh and bone.”
A flush spread across my chest, heat blooming at the base of my throat.
I used to hate my curves. Spent too many years wishing I had the delicate, wispy frames of the women my brothers brought home—women whose hips didn’t sway when they walked, whose butts didn’t jiggle in their bathing suits, or whose breasts didn’t ruin the line of their outfits.
But in the last few years, I’d made peace with my body.
Maybe even started to like it. It was my mother’s figure, after all—a legacy I wore with more pride than I ever expected.
So instead of covering myself, I leaned back on my elbows and let him look. Let him drink his fill.
His mouth kicked up in that wicked, crooked smile I enjoyed seeing focused on me. “Mmm, that’s real nice.” He scrubbed his large hand back and forth over his stubbled jaw for a few long seconds as his eyes roved over my body.
“Now lie back, sweetheart. I want to see every delectable inch of you spread out for me.”
He reached into the front pocket of his Levi’s, fished out his wallet, and slid a condom free. Without breaking eye contact, he tossed it onto the bed up near the pillows.
I swallowed deeply and scooted to the center of the bed, my skin prickling with anticipation as I lowered myself down.
As soon as my back hit the covers beneath me, Gage stripped in a blur—his shirt went flying, his boots thudded to the floor, his jeans and boxers were yanked down and kicked away.
I barely had time to admire the broad planes of his chest or the trail of dark hair leading down to his thick length before he crawled onto the bed and braced himself above me, his eyes blazing.
His gaze swept over my face once again, pausing on my lips, then dropping down to admire the black mesh and lace that matched the panties I’d had on.
Then his lips were on me again—hot, hungry, and possessive.
His tongue swept into my mouth like he owned it.
Like I was his to claim however he wanted.
His right hand slid up to cup my breast through the fabric, abrading my skin, his thumb circling the stiff peak until I pulled my mouth away with an audible gasp.
“This is real pretty,” he murmured, his voice a little rougher than before.
This lingerie wasn’t just pretty. It was gorgeous. My favorite ever. “I’ve got four more sets exactly like it.”
He pinched my nipple through the lace, just hard enough to make me flinch at the expected pain, but instead, I only felt pleasure. I let out a surprised-sounding moan and arched into him.
His grin turned sinful, his eyes sparking with wicked heat. “You like that?”
At my nod, he yanked the cups down with a rough tug, the fragile lace shredding.
I should’ve cared. It was French. Custom-made and ridiculously expensive. But the way this man was looking at me—like I was a present he’d been waiting years to unwrap—made it worth every torn stitch.
“Oops,” he said, not sounding even remotely sorry for having just ruined a five-hundred-dollar piece of lingerie. “Guess I owe you a new one.”
Before I could tell him he’d need to fly to Paris to get it, he ducked his head and sucked one of my nipples into his mouth while his fingers twisted the other. The sting was sharp—but God, the heat that followed …
He switched sides, licking, biting, soothing, and tormenting. I squirmed under him, panting and digging my nails into his shoulders as warring sensations spiraled through me in dizzying, continuous waves.
“I love how responsive you are,” he murmured, his breath hot against my breast. “Think I could make you come just from my mouth on your tits?”
Honestly? No one ever had before—not even close. But right now? The way I was spiraling? It felt possible. I was so close.
“Gage,” I panted, my hips lifting in helpless invitation. “Please,” I whimpered. “Fuck me already. I need you.”
He chuckled and shook his head with an expression that looked like fondness. “Darlin’, if you think I’d fuck you without tasting you one more time, you’ve got another think coming.” He kissed a wet trail down my torso, then lower. “Gotta make sure you’re as sweet as I remember.”
A bubble of laughter burst out of me. “You just did that. I doubt you forgot already.”
He glanced up, smirking. “I’m like a goldfish. No short-term memory to speak of. Lemme just remind myself real quick.”
He dropped onto his stomach between my legs, his big, rough hands nudging my thighs wider before the flat of his tongue pressed against me.
He licked me slowly, then fast, and then slowly again.
He was teasing me, yes, but it also felt like he was training me.
Rewiring every nerve ending I had so that my body was calibrated only to him and the pleasure he could give me.
His tongue flicked my clit with devilish precision, circled it, then sucked. Sparks shot down my spine. I fisted the covers and cried out again.
Gage ate me like a man starved—not just for sex, but for me. He was devouring me like I was his personal sacrament, and this was his form of worship.
“I could stay down here all night,” he said, lapping at me.
“I … please … yes …” I stammered, my hips lifting to grind against his mouth as my fingers tangled in his hair.
A thick finger slid into me, curling against that perfect spot. He added another one, fucking me on his hand and tongue, until I detonated for the second time. He licked me softly through the aftershocks until I was boneless and utterly wrecked.
When he finally crawled back up my body, I blinked up at him in a daze, my skin flushed, my limbs heavy with pleasure.
“Still with me?” he asked, brushing my hair off my cheek.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “But I want you inside me.”
His lips kicked up in triumph, his grin cocky as he reached for the condom he’d tossed aside, ripped it open with his teeth, and slowly rolled it down over his thick length, never taking his eyes off me.
“You want to be my good girl tonight, don’t you, Siena?” he rasped, dragging his hand up to cup me roughly between my legs where I was wet and swollen and oh-so sensitive.
I whimpered, nodding as my hips lifted toward his touch, desperate for more.
He pulled his hand back and landed a sharp smack over my swollen pussy.
I cried out, the sting lighting me up in the best kind of way. My thighs jerked as heat bloomed under my skin.
He pressed the heel of his palm against my clit and ground it down hard.
“Oh fuck!” I gasped, my back arching off the mattress, the pressure just on the edge of overwhelming.
Gage let out a low, pleased sound, his fingers dragging through my slick folds before thrusting three of them deep inside me, pumping hard. “You like it when I get rough with you, sweetheart?”
I nodded again, panting as my hips jerked helplessly, my body chasing another orgasm. “I didn’t know,” I gasped, clinging to his shoulders. “I didn’t know I could feel like this.”
“That’s all right,” he murmured, his breath hot against my neck. “I’ll teach you. I’ll show you all the things your pretty little pussy likes.”
“Yes,” I moaned, not just letting him take control, but willingly handing it over.
Craving it.
He shifted slightly, grinding the heel of his palm against my clit while he kept working me open with his fingers. The pressure built so fast it stole my breath, my body tensing.
“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Don’t hold back.”
“I … Gage … ah!” My voice broke as my release slammed into me, sharp and staggering and so intense I couldn’t think, could barely even breathe.
And then it happened. A rush—no, a flood. My eyes flew open in horror. “Oh my God,” I choked out, trying to slam my legs shut.
“Nuh-uh,” Gage admonished with a dark and filthy smile, his free hand gripping my thigh to hold me open as he watched me drench the bed, his forearm flexing as his fingers pulled every last ripple of pleasure out of me.
“That’s my good girl,” he praised as I felt the last of the moisture leak out of me. “So fucking pretty when you come like this.”