Chapter 30
[Trinity]
Let’s see how good you are to me.
Who says that? Apparently, I do, after feeling brazen and bold for bringing my husband to a rocking orgasm.
I step back but gently grip his shirt in my fist. I’m going to stretch this thing out with all the clinging I’ve done to it. Somehow, I don’t think Dart minds.
With his eyes blown wide and a cheeky smirk on his lips, he tugs up his pants and follows me as I step backward toward the dining room table. Just before I hit the edge, Dart catches my hips and lifts me onto one corner.
“Want me to be a good boy?” he asks, his voice as seductive as the gleam in his eyes.
“The best boy,” I tease until his mouth captures mine. Kissing me like only he does. His tongue sweeps over mine. His lips take command.
He moves to my jaw and my chin. “Did you behave yourself tonight?” he teases.
“I’m always a good girl,” I sigh, jerking my head to the side as he moves to my neck. I’ve never considered myself reckless or particularly wild. And while I might have embraced my individual sexuality, I considered that self-preservation more than being a rebel of any sort.
“So good,” Dart hums before he nips the juncture of my neck and shoulder. A sweet spot Dart knows well. His teeth scrape over my flesh. The pressure just right, sending a crackle between my breasts to my lower belly, like an invisible lightning bolt right to my core.
I spread my knees, allowing him more space between them. He tugs me by my backside to meet where he’s becoming hard again.
Always for me, he said. Only for me.
That’s how I feel about him. Only he can create this rush inside me. This desperate need to be close to him.
He moves his lips down my chest, dragging his tongue along the edge of my dress.
The top scrunches, pulled together by a string.
He tugs at it, allowing the bodice to open.
And while he squeezes me over my dress, causing me to cry out on the pinch of my already hard nipple, he’s a man on a mission, lowering for the hem.
“You like that,” he teases, knowing I did. He’s always been this cross between rough yet tender.
He shoves my dress to my lap.
“You have sexy kneecaps,” he says, stroking his hands over my thighs and staring at the bend in my legs. “Might want to fuck you with those boots on one day.”
“Promises, promises,” I tease until he lifts his head and kisses me again, hard and fast, like he’s imprinting that promise on my lips.
Like we have one day, someday, on the calendar ahead of us.
He lowers to one knee, spreading my thighs wider, and bringing me to the edge of the table. He just stares at my center.
“Never thought . . .”
I cover his lips with my fingers. “I don’t want nevers. I want now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he teases, eyes simmering with lust, as he glances back between my legs. He drags the back of his hand up my thigh and then swipes a finger down the damp strip between them.
“Looks like you made a little mess in this pretty underwear.”
I’m wet, soaking the material, and giving him a show.
Reaching for my hips, he tugs at my panties, and I lift, allowing him to drag them off of me.
With my hands on the table, I spread my thighs just a little bit wider, giving him an even better view.
“Stunning,” he whispers, like those folds are the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen.
He kisses one knee and squeezes the other, working his way up my leg. Then he inhales.
“Heaven.” He blows over where I’m soaked and ready.
“Dart,” I whisper, needing him. Needing this. It’s been so long since his lips have touched me there.
“I know, baby,” he says, like he’s just as hungry to taste me as I am to be tasted.
Then his mouth is there. His tongue, thick and flat, licks up my seam. I cry out at the suddenness, even though I’ve been anticipating it, wanting it.
“It’s been so long,” I whimper, flashing back to when things were only functional between us. Quickly, I pull my thoughts from that time.
“Too long,” he hums against me, wiggling that tongue against my clit before sucking me, kissing me.
I reach for his head, slipping my fingers into his hair, tugging a little at the wavy strands.
The movement only spurs him on, licking and lapping, treating me like I’m precious.
I lift my booted heel to the edge of the table. The position opens me even wider for him, allowing his tongue to go even deeper.
“Yes,” he whispers against me, like he’s the one on the edge of something monumental. He’s on the brink of coming undone.
With my dress open at my breasts and the rest of it in my lap, plus my foot on the table, I’m a mess. And I’m a fucking goddess, crying out in my head, Feast.
As if Dart hears me, he doubles down, digging deeper with that tongue, adding his fingers into the fray. Two slip easily into me, stuffing me, filling me.
I drop to my elbows, my body quivering. The leg dangling off the table bouncing. He hooks that leg over his shoulder, allowing my booted foot to rest on his back. He cups my ass, lifting me like a treasured dish.
And then he does this thing with his fingers and his tongue simultaneously, and I crack.
I shatter into pieces all over this table, spilling against his lips.
“Dart,” I cry out, then clamp a hand over my mouth, remembering that Mirabelle is sleeping upstairs.
He doesn’t let up even though I’m spent. His tongue continues, making my body convulse with aftershocks until a new wave starts building again.
“Dart?” A question rings in his name. What’s happening to me? It’s been a long, long time since I’ve had a double orgasm. Even with him. Even with all he knows about my body and what he does to it.
He smiles against me, knowing what’s happening before I do.
“One more,” he mutters against those sensitive folds, before getting back on task and tipping me over the edge again.
I feel like a teacup about to be poured out, and I’ll never think of that nursery rhyme the same way again. I’m tipping. I’m leaning. I’m spilling again, fighting a scream and allowing it to be a guttural moan to match the relief.
I fall to my back, completely spent. Chest rising. Heart nearly beating out of my chest. I fling my arms over my head, letting the table take my weight.
Dart kisses me one final time, then slowly stands, pressing more kisses into my thighs and just above my pelvic bone before tugging down my dress and holding out a hand to help me sit up.
“Was that good enough?” he teases.
“More than good enough.”
He’s enough. And he’s so good.