Chapter 6 #2
He groans, his stubble scratching my cheek in the most delicious way. I want to burn for him outside like I am inside. My moan spurs him on, his huge hands coming up to tangle in my hair, angling my head in the way he wants so he can go deeper, invading my mouth and making it his.
His hips grind into me, the roughness of his jeans pressing against the central seam of my sleep shorts and making my brain short circuit at the pleasure that flashes through me.
“Steele!” I gasp into his mouth, and he grunts.
“Tell me if anything is too much. I like it rough, but don’t want to hurt you, Flower,” he pants into my mouth, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes.
“You won’t,” I reply breathlessly. “I trust you.”
“Fuck, baby.” He kisses me deeply. “You really shouldn’t.”
His face lowers to my neck, his nose burying in the side of it, breathing me in.
“Cherry blossoms and spring. Been driving me crazy,” he groans, kissing over my pulse point, nipping and sucking and leaving me gasping, my toes curling. “Going to remember this scent forever. Going to cover you in mine.”
God this man and his words. They’re so primal, and they are making me so bloody wet.
A cry leaves my lips when he bites down a little harder, at the point where my neck meets my shoulder, soothing the burn with his tongue and sucking the skin. “Want everyone to see. To know you’re claimed. You’re mine.”
I swear I’m halfway to an orgasm, and he’s not even touched my pussy yet.
“Steele,” I beg, my hands pulling at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against mine.
He pauses, his chest heaving and he pushes up to his knees, ignoring my whimper at the loss of him.
“It’s not a pretty sight, Flower.”
I look down his arms, at the deep scars that litter them, the ones peeking from the collar of his shirt.
“But it’s you, Steele. And I want all of you, not just the pretty bits.”
His chest hitches. “Shit, sweetness.”
One hand goes to his collar, and he pulls, tugging off his shirt in that way that guys do which is just too sexy.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of him, at all those rippling muscles, most of which are covered with scars and tattoos in greys and blacks which flow across his mahogany skin.
Some marks are small and circular, others deep and jagged.
My hand reaches out to trace a particularly nasty one on his lower abdomen, then I pause. “May I?”
“You can always touch me, anywhere, Flower,” he replies, a lump forming in my throat at his trust, which can’t be easy for him.
Shuffling so I can sit up, I touch the scar, which is lighter than his mahogany skin. A reminder of pain survived. His muscles twitch underneath my fingers.
“Glass bottle,” he states, his tone empty, and my breath catches.
Leaning down, I kiss the scar, feeling his skin jump underneath my lips. Rising up, I pause at several circular ones.
“Cigarette burns.”
I kiss each one of those too, my hands on his hot skin as I carry on kissing all the terrible scars I can reach. He’s panting by the time I finish, and I know there are some on his back, perhaps even more than the ones I can see, but his hands come up to cup my face.
“They don’t disgust you?” There’s a vulnerability in his fathomless eyes that breaks my heart.
“No part of you disgusts me, Steele,” I reply honestly, and a shuddering exhale leaves him.
“I need you now, flower. Fuck, I need you so badly. But you’re so small. I don’t want to break you.” His words are whispered against my lips, our eyes closed.
I scoff. “I’m not small, Steele.” I think about my soft belly, my thick thighs. I hiss when one of his hands buries itself in my hair, tugging sharply until I’m looking at him.
“You are fucking perfect,” he snarls at me. “And you’re small compared to me.”
I gaze into his eyes, which I realise are a shade of brown so deep they’re almost black, and all I see is his desire reflected back at me. As if to prove his point further, he grinds his hard length into my core, making me inhale sharply.
“No part of me doesn’t fucking crave you like you’re the thing that will save me,” he purrs, dipping his head down and placing open mouthed kisses along the skin of my neck, releasing my hair so he can tug down my sleep vest. “Fucking hell, baby.”
He gives me no time to ask what he’s talking about, because in the next moment his hot mouth has closed over my nipple and is sucking hard. A gasp leaves my lips, my hands grasping his thick shoulders as he laves the bud with his tongue before biting down, hard.
“Fuck! Steele!” I shout as the pleasure-pain flows through me, his tongue soothing the bite.
“Love to hear you curse in that prim, school teacher voice because I’m ruining you,” he murmurs, his words sending a jolt straight to my clit.
He tugs the other side of my vest down so hard the strap breaks, but he’s soon distracting me with that damn tongue again, his teasing nips and sucks driving me wild.
“Please,” I gasp, not entirely sure what I’m asking him but knowing that I need more, need him between my legs with that tongue.
“Please, what, Flower?” He blows across the wet skin surrounding my nipple, a teasing edge to his voice.
“I need…” I trail off, my cheeks heating even though I’m half naked underneath him.
“Yes? What do you need, baby?” I look down to see a devilish smile on his face.
I lick my lips, my heart racing at the thought of asking for what I want. He waits, torturing me with slow licks of my poor nipples, sending jolts of pleasure across my body.
“I-want-your-tongue-on-me,” I rush out, my cheeks burning more, and he stops, looking up at me, his tongue darting to lick my nipple again.
“It is on you,” he replies huskily, so calm, so collected when I feel so needy, so desperate.
“Steele,” I whine, and he smirks again.
“Where do you need my tongue, Flower?” He’s all coiled predator, the energy thrumming off him in waves that I know will drown me. I just don’t know why he’s not taking me like I want him to. I open my legs, and a single brow raises. “Use your words, sweetness.”
Anger flares hot and bright inside me, not just at him, but at my inability to ask for what I want. To take something, just for me. Without thinking, I push down on his shoulders, and he follows my direction until his face is over my crotch. His hot breath fans over my core, and I whimper.
“Here,” I tell him, hoping it’s enough. “I want your tongue here.”
His head lowers, and my eyes pop open when he takes a huge inhale, a low rumble coming from his throat like I’m the best thing he’s smelled in years.
“You want my tongue on this sweet pussy?”
Good god when he says things like that I think I might combust right here.
“Yes, please, Steele, please,” I beg, forgetting anything other than getting his tongue on my damp folds.
“Then you need to ask for it, baby,” he instructs me, looking up at me from between my legs. I look down at him, at the dark warmth of his hands against my pale thighs, and my breath leaves me completely. ““Steele, please eat my pussy”. That’s all you need to say.”
I let out a shaky exhale, holding his gaze as I drum up the courage to ask for this. It’s just, asking is hard, and I thought with all his primal energy he might just take what he wants, which I want him to do. But he seems set on me asking him, as if he knows this is difficult for me.
“Steele,” I pause, taking another breath. “Steele, please eat my pussy.”