Chapter 7
Suri
I may have started this kiss, but Devon quickly takes control.
He stands, his chair scraping against the floor as he drags me to the edge of my stool. His hands jerk my legs wide, and then his hips are there, crowding between my thighs, his big body pressing against mine.
Tingles skate down my spine and a pulse leaps in my core. I immediately grow damp, and my panties stick to my throbbing flesh.
I swear I had no intention of sleeping with Devon tonight. I was enjoying him chasing me, romancing me. But I underestimated how badly I want to be with him intimately.
I’m a twenty-one-year-old virgin, and the only man who has ever turned me on like this is Devon. This man who’s claiming me with his kiss, whose unsteady hands mold my curves, whose hard cock presses against me.
He wants me. Badly.
That might be the biggest turn-on ever. I can feel Devon’s need for me, can feel how much he’s attracted to me in the press of his body against mine, in the throb of his dick, in the way his hands flex against my hips, in the rumble of his groan against my lips.
“Baby,” he rasps.
I wrap my arms around his neck to hold him to me, almost afraid he’ll disappear if I don’t. I moan into his kiss, gripping his shoulders and using them as leverage to climb his body, to get closer to him.
Devon senses what I need. He grips my hips, lifting me easily.
“Counter,” I pant.
“No. Need to feel you grinding on me. Fuck, baby. You have me so hot.”
I cry out as his hips rock, and he thrusts against me. Devon groans as his lips capture mine again. The kiss is rougher. Needier. As if his restraint is fraying.
And I love it.
I love feeling him lose control for me.
His arms band around my waist, holding me tight as he carries me from the kitchen. I cling to him, my thighs locked around his hips, my heart pounding so hard that I can feel it everywhere—in my chest, my throat, between my legs.
“Where are we going?” I whisper against his mouth.
“My room,” he says, voice low and wrecked. “Unless you tell me to stop.”
I pull back to look at him. His dark blue eyes are almost black; heated and intense. But underneath all that hunger is something else. Gentleness. Patience. Like he’s holding himself on a leash for me.
I swallow. “I don’t want you to stop.”
His jaw tightens. “Suri.”
The way he says my name makes my stomach flutter.
“I mean it,” I whisper. “I want you.”
For half a second, he stares at me. Then his mouth crashes back down on mine. By the time we reach his bedroom, I’m breathless and shaking.
Devon kicks the door closed behind us and lowers me to the bed with more gentleness than I expected, like I’m precious. Like I’m something he’s afraid to break.
He comes down over me, bracing himself on one arm, his other hand sliding up my side. His palm skims my ribs, my waist, my hip, like he’s learning me by touch.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs.
My cheeks heat. “You keep saying that.”
“Because I keep thinking it.”
Then his mouth is on my neck, hot and open, and I lose whatever response I might have had. My head tips back into the pillow as he kisses the sensitive skin beneath my ear, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh and making me gasp.
“Devon.”
“I know, baby.” His voice is rough. “I’ve got you.”
His hands find the hem of my shirt and pause.
I look down at him. He’s waiting. That almost undoes me more than the kissing.
I lift my arms.
Devon drags my shirt over my head and tosses it somewhere behind him. His gaze drops to my bra, and for a moment, he goes completely still.
The look on his face makes me feel powerful. Desired. Wanted.
“So fucking pretty,” he says almost to himself.
I bite my lip, suddenly shy under the weight of his stare. “You can touch me.”
His eyes flick up to mine. “Yeah?”
I nod. “Please.”
A sound rumbles in his chest. Then his hands are on me. He cups me through the lace, thumbs brushing slowly over my nipples until they tighten beneath the fabric. My back arches before I can stop it, and Devon’s mouth curves like he loves seeing my body answer him.
“There she is,” he murmurs.
I exhale shakily. “Don’t tease me.”
“Wasn’t teasing.” His gaze burns into mine as he lowers his mouth to the swell of my breast. “I’m worshipping.”
My breath catches. He kisses every inch of skin he can reach, then reaches behind me with one hand and unclasps my bra with an ease that makes my stomach flip. The straps slide down my arms, and he bares me from the waist up.
For a heartbeat, I want to cover myself. Devon must see it because he catches my wrists gently before I can.
“No hiding from me,” he says softly. “Not unless you want to.”
I stare up at him, pulse racing. Then I relax my hands.
His expression changes, softening into something almost tender. “Good girl.”
The praise hits me low and deep. I whimper before I can stop myself.
Devon’s eyes flare. “Oh, you like that?”
I turn my face into the pillow, embarrassed.
He catches my chin and brings my eyes back to him. “Don’t be embarrassed. I want to know everything you like.”
“I don’t know everything I like,” I admit, voice small.
His thumb strokes my jaw. “Then we’ll find out together.”
My heart melts. Then his mouth closes over my nipple, and every thought in my head scatters.
I gasp, hands flying to his hair. The black strands are thick between my fingers, soft and a little messy from the way I’ve been tugging at them. He groans against my skin when I pull, and the sound vibrates through me.
He takes his time with me. Too much time. Not enough. His mouth and hands move over me until I’m squirming beneath him, my hips lifting helplessly, seeking friction.
“Devon,” I plead.
He lifts his head. “What do you need?”
I don’t know how to say it. My face burns.
His hand slides down my stomach and stops at the button of my jeans. “Here?”
I nod.
“Words, baby.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
I open my eyes and glare at him, even though my body is trembling.
His mouth twitches.
“Devon.”
“Tell me.”
I swallow. “Touch me.”
The heat in his expression turns molten. “With pleasure.”
He opens my jeans slowly, like he’s giving me every second to change my mind. I don’t. I lift my hips when he tugs the denim down my legs. Then I’m lying there in nothing but my panties, exposed in a way I’ve never been with anyone.
Devon stands at the edge of the bed, staring down at me. He looks massive from this angle. Broad shoulders. Muscled arms. Dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. His chest rises and falls like he’s fighting for control.
“Take off your shirt,” I whisper.
His eyes snap to mine. A second later, his shirt is gone.
I knew Devon was strong. I knew he was built. But seeing him like this is different. His chest is broad and carved with muscle, his stomach hard, his skin marked here and there with scars I want to trace with my mouth.
He’s beautiful in a dangerous, masculine way that makes my thighs press together. Devon notices. Of course, he notices.
“Don’t do that,” he says, voice thick.
“What?”
He reaches down and gently parts my knees again. “Don’t hide what I want.”
My breath leaves me. He lowers himself between my legs, kissing my inner thigh. The first touch of his mouth there makes me jolt.
“Sensitive,” he murmurs.
“Yes.”
His lips curve against my skin. “Good.”
He kisses higher, his stubble scraping lightly, and I’m shaking by the time he reaches the edge of my panties. He breathes me in, and embarrassment crashes through me so fast that I try to close my legs.
Devon holds them open, not hard, just steady. “Don’t,” he says roughly. “You smell sweet as hell.”
I make a mortified sound. “Devon.”
“I mean it.” His eyes lift to mine. “I want to taste you so badly that my hands are shaking.”
I look at his hands. They are.
Something inside me loosens.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He hooks his fingers into my panties and draws them down my legs. Cool air hits my wet flesh, and I nearly die from the vulnerability of it. But then Devon is there, kissing the inside of my knee, my thigh, moving closer and closer until I can hardly breathe.
The first stroke of his tongue makes me cry out.
My hands fist in the sheets. Devon groans like he’s the one being pleasured, his arms wrapping under my thighs to hold me open for him. He licks me slowly at first, learning me, watching every twitch and gasp, then with more confidence when my hips rock toward his mouth.
“Oh my god,” I gasp.
He hums against me, and the vibration makes sparks shoot through my body. I can’t stay still. I don’t know how. My thighs tense around his head, my fingers twisting into his hair as he works me with his mouth until I’m panting his name like a prayer.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against me. “Let go for me, baby.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.”
His mouth closes over me again, and this time when the pressure builds, it doesn’t stop. It climbs higher and higher until I’m shaking, overwhelmed, desperate.
Then he slides one finger into me.
I shatter.
The orgasm rolls through me in waves, stealing my breath and curling my toes. I hear myself cry out, feel Devon holding me through it, his mouth gentle now as he coaxes every last tremor from my body.
When I finally go limp, I’m dazed. Devon kisses his way back up my body, his mouth finding mine. I taste myself on him, and the intimacy of it makes me blush and ache all over again.
“You okay?” he asks, brushing hair back from my face.
I nod, still breathing hard. “Better than okay.”
His smile is soft. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He kisses me, slow this time. Tender. But I can feel him against my thigh, hard and heavy. Knowing that he’s still wanting, still aching, makes heat unfurl inside me again. I slide my hand down his chest, over his stomach, to the waistband of his jeans.
Devon catches my wrist. “Suri.”
I freeze. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” His voice is strained. “Hell no. But we need to slow down for a second.”
I blink up at him.
He takes a breath, then another. “You said you’re a virgin.”
I nod.