Chapter 47
Electra
He makes her drink a VitaShot and a chocolate-flavored protein packet. Then they sleep for twelve hours, tangled in each other’s arms.
When she wakes up, he’s leaned up on one arm, staring at her. “What?” She pulls the covers over her head, stifling a yawn. He tugs them down.
“Food or sex?”
She grins. “How do I choose between my two favorite things?”
“I thought reading was your favorite thing.”
“Fourth, after writing.” Her stomach grumbles, making the choice for her.
In the kitchen, they share a few ready-made breakfast meals, even though it’s after midnight. She sits on the counter as he rifles through the apartment-sized refrigerator. He pulls out a small package of red fruit. “Berries?”
“Are you fussing?”
“Maybe. Is that a problem?”
“No.” She frowns. What story is he concocting in his mind?
“I want to make sure you’re okay. What happened to you would reasonably make anyone lose hope.”
She shakes her head. “I told you. I knew you would save me. I’m fine. Or fine enough not to lose hope again. I’ve fought too hard to get here, and I’m determined to be okay. To be happy.”
“I believe you,” he says, reluctantly enough to make her question whether he’s being 100 percent honest. “Are you still hungry?” he counters, changing tact.
“No.”
He steps up beside her, sets the container on the counter, and parts her legs to step between them. “You sore?”
Deft fingers run over the barely there evidence of her trauma. The scars that Sable gave her a cream for and said would be gone in a few days’ time. “No.”
“Tired?”
She sighs. “Nope.” It isn’t entirely a lie.
“Berries, then.” He holds a small red fruit in front of her nose.
It lacks the specificity to determine which variety—straw, blue or rasp.
Just lab-synthesized red. She opens her mouth.
A sweet yet tart flavor bursts across her tongue as she chews.
She swallows, licking juice from her lips with intention.
His stare is glued to the motion. He swallows.
She grins. “Not tired,” she reminds him.
He kisses her, tasting far better than the berries. She reaches for his T-shirt, but he bats her hands away. “I don’t believe you.”
“We slept for twelve hours.” She groans in frustration as he makes an open-mouthed trail down her neck. Sensing there’s no hope of arguing with him until he’s certain she’s whole and in one piece, she places her hands on the counter behind her and leans back.
He smiles at her acquiescence, biting her nipple through her shirt. The visual of his golden eyes flashing combined with the sharp sensation makes her core pulse.
His hands grip her hips. “Move forward.”
He adjusts her so her hips are on the edge of the counter. Anticipation coils in her belly as he drops to his knees and drapes her legs over his shoulders. He pushes up her shirt, exposing the fact that she never put on any panties. Cool air drifts over her bare flesh.
“I need to make you feel good,” he says, trailing gentle kisses up the inside of her thigh.
Need to. His breath hitches as his tongue swipes through her center.
Her nerves are alight with a single touch, and all she can say is, “Wow.”
She watches as he offers her testing licks, each becoming more insistent, like the act is an aphrodisiac for him, too. Instinctively, she presses her heel into his back, rolling her hips. He groans.
She’s only had a few partners go down on her before, and none were as into it as Res6. She wrote about more ravenous men in her books, of course, but they were fiction. “You like this?” she asks.
He pauses, speaking into her pussy as if it were a microphone. “More than you can know. I could drown in your taste.”
He dives his tongue in deep for emphasis, drawing out a hiss of pleasure. “I’m so hard right now. I’m aching to be inside you, but not until you come for me.”
Her shirt slips down, covering the view of him devouring her.
He tugs the shirt. “Take this off.”
She quickly tugs it over her head, tossing it away.
“Not entirely fair—ahh!” she cries as his fingers slide inside her, his lips wrapping around her clit.
He sucks and her heel digs deeper into his back, the other pressing against the cabinets as her hips climb off the counter.
Or they would if his free arm weren’t holding her down.
The resistance doubles the intensity. A sparkling, throbbing sensation is blooming between her legs, and her inner walls flutter wildly around his plunging fingers.
He must sense she’s close because he moans, and the low vibrations send her pleasure cresting.
She throws her head back, pleasure crashing over her in wave after wave.
She must have left this plane because when she returns, he’s standing between her legs again, wiping his grinning mouth on the back of his hand.
“I love making you come almost as much as I love you.” He unfastens his pants and pushes them down, his thick erection springing free as he kicks them off. Then he’s lining himself up. “Yes?”
“Yes,” she moans, boneless and half dazed as he presses inside her.
He wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. “Hold on.”
She squeezes his neck, drawing their bodies flush, which slides him deeper. She hums in pleasure as he grips her thighs and carries her across the room. She thinks he’s going back to the bedroom, but he pauses outside the door to the spare room.
“Open it,” he commands.
That clears the haze. Even as she’s wrapped in his arms, with him buried inside her, nerves dance in her stomach.
She reaches down and turns the handle, and the door swings open.
He steps into the room, which only heightens her nervous energy.
Is there a Jerme manupartner in here who he plans to share her with? No, that’s insane.
“You’re overthinking.” Then all of her worry melts away as he says. “No more locked doors between us. Ever.”
He closes the door and presses her back against the cool surface. The symbolism isn’t lost on her. “Ever,” she agrees.
He rolls his hips, languidly rocking into her.
The boldness of what he did to save her lands in her mind then, and she stares at him in awe. “You put CHOICElover on the line for me.”
“I did.” His tempo steadily increases, his breathing becoming shallower.
He must sense her questions because he bites out between labored breaths, “No regrets. This is worth it. You’re worth it.” His eyes flicker down her body, lingering where he’s moving inside her. “Touch yourself while I fuck you.”
She loosens an arm from around his neck. His stare never wavers as she obeys, running her fingers over her clit, gently at first, then with more intensity. Until her pleasure is building, and the door is rattling with each of his thrusts.
The muscles in his neck tense, veins and tendons popping out, body flexing as he moves.
Whoever says women aren’t visual creatures too has clearly never been fucked by a man that looks like this.
The straining, corded muscles at his hips are what push her to the edge.
Or maybe it’s his shudders as he clings to control.
Maybe it’s his gasp as he shouts, “I’m about to—” before he loses control completely, hips thrusting, hitting that deepest part of her, then she’s coming.
Pleasure bursts from deep in her core like fireworks. Her mind is too incoherent to form sensible words as she screams. He holds her, swallowing her pants with kisses. She feels so whole, so complete. Relaxed in a way she’s never quite felt before.
He disentangles them, gently setting her down. She wobbles, leaning against the wall for support. He quickly rushes to the bathroom and returns with a warm cloth. Once they’re cleaned up, he guides her back to bed.
They crawl beneath the pile of blankets, and she curls into his warmth.
“You good?” he asks.
She smiles into his chest as sleep threatens to claim her. There’s no hesitation—no other shoe to drop. Confidently, she says, “I’ve never been better.”