Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
EARL
I ’m not done with her. I’m never done with her. I push the stall door and grab a towel. I wrap her in it.
“Follow me,” I say, and grabbing another towel head straight to the bed. I finish towelling myself, drop the towel to the floor and sit at its edge. Dampness still clings to my hair and skin. Moments later, she appears, her own towel wrapped loosely around her, the sight of her steals the air from my lungs. She pauses in the doorway briefly, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, but when she meets my gaze, something unspoken passes between us. She crosses the room slowly, her steps light and careful and comes to stand in front of me.
I reach out and take her wrist, and gently pull her onto the bed. She comes willingly and I position her on the bed. Her legs fall open under my hands, and I settle between them, my gaze never leaving hers. She looks at me like I’m the only thing tethering her to reality, like she might shatter if I so much as blink.
“Stay still,” I murmur. Then I lean down and lick her sex. It’s what I wanted to do from the first moment I saw her in the church, but I was afraid her taste would break me.
The first touch of my tongue against her makes her cry out, a sound that sends a jolt of heat through me. She trembles under me, her hands gripping the sheets as though they’re her only anchor. I go slow at first, savoring her, but her taste is intoxicating, and I lose myself in her, in the softness of her thighs, the warmth of her skin, the electricity that sparks between us with every movement.
Her body arches off the bed as I deepen my attention, my tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that leave her writhing. Her hands find my hair and her fingers tangle in it, pulling hard as if she’s trying to drag me deeper into her. And I let her. I’d let her rip me apart if it meant staying here, like this … with her.
Her hips move against me, uncontrollable now, desperate, and I grip them, holding her steady as I take her higher and higher. Her moans turn to pleas, incoherent and breathless, and I can feel the tension building in her, a coiled spring ready to snap. I suck harder, faster, the pressure driving her to the edge until she shatters beneath me, crying out as her body trembles violently.
Her release is everything—raw, unrestrained, and utterly consuming. She’s spilling into my mouth, and I drink every bit of her, my tongue working to prolong her pleasure, to draw out every last shudder.
When she finally stills and lays limp, my lips press gentle kisses to her skin, feeling her pulse race beneath me. Her breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, and her body glistens with a sheen of sweat and satisfaction. I watch her struggle to regain herself, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her lips parted, her hair splayed wildly across the bed. She looks wrecked and radiant all at once, and the sight of her like this—undone, beautiful, mine—burns itself into my memory.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks, the room filled only with the sound of her breathing and the lingering echoes of what we’ve just shared. I lean forward, resting my forehead against the softness of her thigh, and close my eyes, savoring the warmth of her.
My lips move over her skin, reverent and unhurried, trailing along the curve of her thighs, over the softness of her sex, up the line of her abdomen. She gasps when my tongue dips into the shallow hollow of her belly button, and the sound shoots through me like a live current. I linger, savoring the way her muscles tense beneath my mouth, the way her breath catches as though she’s completely at my mercy.
Next is her breasts. I take my time, cupping their fullness in my hands, feeling their delicious roundness, their warmth. My lips brush against one taut peak, then the other, my tongue teasing in soft, flicking strokes. Her nipples harden against my tongue, and I can feel myself responding in kind, the ache inside me building, building. She cries out, her back arching off the bed, her hands gripping my arms as though she wants to pull me closer.
Her gasps turn to pleas as I take her nipple fully into my mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder. Her cries are high and breathless, her hands now clawing at my shoulders, her legs shifting restlessly beneath me. She tries to twist away, overwhelmed, it’s all too much for her, but I hold her steady, my mouth devouring her, savoring her, drowning in the sweetness of her taste and the sheer intoxicating feel of her. It’s endless, this kiss, this moment, this connection I can’t let go of.
Unwilling to stop, I trail back down her body, my lips tracing the same path they took moments ago, but this time slower, deeper, as though I’m memorizing every inch of her. I reach between us, my hand guiding myself to her, and with deliberate care, I position the tip of my cock against her entrance. She’s so wet, so ready, her slick heat coating me as I thrust into her until she takes all of me.
Her body welcomes me, enveloping me in a way that makes my head spin. I take my time, moving gently at first, rocking into her with an excruciating slowness that has her trembling beneath me. Her hands clutch at my arms, her nails digging into my skin as though she can’t handle the unbearable tension building between us. Her moans are soft and breathless, every sound she makes adding fuel to the fire raging inside me.
I change my rhythm, my movements turning deep and deliberate, every thrust designed to stretch the moment, to draw out every ounce of pleasure. Her legs wrap around me, her heels pressing into my back, urging me to go harder, deeper. I oblige, my pace quickening, the force of my thrusts causing the bed to creak beneath us. Her cries grow louder, more desperate, and I cover her mouth with mine, swallowing her sounds as though I can’t bear the thought of losing even one of them.
“Earl,” she cries against my lips, her voice breaking when I shift my angle and drive into her with a newfound intensity. Her body arches beneath me, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling hard enough to make me groan. I grip her hips, holding her steady as I lose myself in the rhythm of us, the way we fit together, the way every thrust, every movement sends her closer to the edge.
Her release comes suddenly, violently, her body clenching around me as she cries out my name, her voice wrecked with the force of her orgasm. The sight of her coming undone beneath me—her head craned back, throat exposed, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut—is enough to send me over the edge. I follow her, my release hitting me like a tidal wave, pulling me under, leaving me shaking and breathless as I collapse against her.
For a moment, neither of us moves, the room filled with the sound of our ragged breathing, the scent of sex and sweat hanging heavy in the air. I press a kiss to her shoulder, then her neck, and finally her lips, the taste of her grounding me, reminding me that she’s here, that this is real.
She reaches up, her fingers brushing against my cheek, her touch soft, tentative, as though she’s afraid this moment might shatter if she holds on too tightly. I cover her hand with mine, pressing it to my face, and for just this moment, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we could have this again.