15. Theo
THEO
Her hand fists in my hair. Her mouth opens under mine. The radiator clunks in the corner, and the storm hisses against the window.
Bianca Donovan is all mine in a yeti shirt in a motel.
My hand slides under the cotton and finds her ribs. No bra. She came out of that bathroom in a glittery yeti shirt and nothing else under it, knowing full well I was on the other side of the door.
I drag my palm up the underside of her breast. She arches into it. The soft, hot weight of her against my palm makes me close my eyes for a second.
I pull back. Her breath is uneven. Mine is not much better.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Her eyes find mine. “What?”
“You say stop, we stop.”
Her hand tightens in my hair. “I want this.”
She pulls the yeti shirt off in one motion. Her hair catches in the collar, and she laughs into my shoulder while we get it free.
She drops back on the pillow. Hair loose.
I lower my mouth to the hollow at the base of her throat. Her pulse is beating fast. So is mine.
I work down.
My mouth closes over her nipple. Her hand fists in my hair so hard the back of my scalp tingles. I flick my tongue over her nipple, slow.
She holds back a broken moan.
I lift my head a quarter inch. “If you don’t make noise, I won’t know what you like.”
“I like everything you’re doing.”
“Out loud, Bianca.”
I do it again. She makes the sound louder this time. I drag my mouth to the other side and do it all again, and the second sound is even hotter than the first.
I lift my head.
Her hair is wrecked. Her mouth is swollen. Her chest is rising and falling in a rhythm that shows me she’s turned on.
“I’m going to apologize properly.” I kiss the spot between her ribs where her breath is shaking. “With my mouth. Between your thighs.”
Her hand softens in my hair. Her eyes drop to mine, and there’s an unexpected ferocity in them that’s going to ruin me.
“Good plan,” she says. “Ander told me you’d have to eat my pussy for forgiveness.”
The radiator clunks.
Something hot moves through me. Not jealousy. Closer to gratitude.
I drag my mouth to the dip under her navel. Eyes on hers.
“I know.” I kiss an inch lower. “My brother and I agree for once in our lives. But he also said he wanted to watch.”
“Not sure what to do about that,” she says. “Unless you want to video chat with him.”
“I’d rather not.”
Her laugh catches in her throat and dies. Her hand fists in my hair again.
She lifts her hips, and I settle between her thighs.
Her knees come up on either side of my shoulders. The skin on the inside of her thighs is hot against my ears. She is shaking. Not from the cold.
I press my mouth to the inside of her left knee. The right. I work up. Slow. The stubble at my jaw scrapes the soft skin of her thigh, and a shiver moves over her that I watch.
I drag my open mouth across the crease where her thigh meets her hip. Her fist closes on the sheet beside my ear. I drag my mouth to the matching crease on the other side. The fist tightens.
She is panting.
Then I take my first taste of her.
Salt. Heat. Something sweeter underneath. The sound she makes when my tongue moves through her is the best thing I have ever earned.
“Hand,” I say against her. “In my hair. Pull.”
She tightens her grip. Pulls, testing. I lean into it, and her gasp is its own reward.
I find her clit. Flat tongue, broad pressure.
No rhythm yet. I watch her stomach for the place her breathing changes.
One angle changes it. I do it again. Same result.
I tighten my mouth on her and suck, soft, and her thigh jerks against my shoulder, so hard I have to hook my arm over it to keep her where I want her.
My free hand finds her wrist on the sheet. I tangle my fingers through hers and press her hand into the mattress.
I find a rhythm. I keep it.
Her thighs vibrate against my temples. Her hips lift off the bed into my mouth on their own, and she is using me now, riding my face.
Her hand in my hair has gone from pulling to clamping. Bianca Donovan is taking what she needs from me.
I have never been so turned on in my entire fucking life.
“Theo.” A thread of a voice. “Oh God, that feels so good.”
Her breath has gone short and ragged. Three small inhales and one held. Three more and one held. Her hand in mine on the sheet is bone-white at the knuckles. I tighten my mouth the smallest amount, and she breaks.
Her back arches off the mattress in one long curve. Her hand crushes mine on the sheet. The other locks in my hair at the root.
The sound that comes out of her starts as a vowel, turns into my name, and ends as nothing. No sound at all. Just her open mouth at the ceiling and the slow, hot pulse of her against my tongue.
Her thighs lock around my head. Her stomach ripples under the dim light from the window in waves I can watch move. I follow her through it, gentle, until the waves slow, until her grip in my hair eases, until she pushes weakly at my forehead because it is too much now.
Only then do I lift my mouth. Her thighs fall open against the sheets. Her arm comes up over her eyes. She is gasping at the ceiling.
“Oh,” she says, to no one. “Oh.”
I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh. The skin there is wet. “Still with me?”
“Barely.” Half a laugh.
“I need you here,” I tell her. “We’re not done.”
I move up the length of her body. Her hip. The dip under her ribs. The pulse at the side of her throat. By the time I reach her mouth, she eagerly kisses me.
The taste of her arousal on my tongue passes between us, and she doesn’t flinch from it. Her hand comes up to the back of my neck and stays there.
“Do you have a condom?” she asks.
“Wallet.”
She bites the inside of her cheek. “You keep one in your wallet.”
“I always have one. It’s responsible.”
“Of course.” Almost a laugh. “Go get it, Sawyer.”
I push off the bed and grab my wallet, find the condom, and turn around.
She’s sitting up against the pillows. Sheet pooled at her hips. Hair a disaster. Mouth swollen. The dim light from the window has crossed her collarbone again, and she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
I strip the rest of the way. Her eyes trail along my body. She likes what she sees. So do I.
I roll the condom on, and I put one knee on the bed.
Instead of crawling up between her legs, I sit back against the headboard. The cheap pressboard knocks once against the wall. I hold out a hand to her.
Her mouth tips up. “Oh, you want me to do the work.”
“I want to look at you.”
She comes to me on her knees. Mouth tipped up at one corner. The way she climbs into my lap is unhurried.
She settles over my thighs.
Her hands come to my shoulders. Mine go to her hips. Her skin is hot under my palms.
She slides forward instead of down. She drags her center along my cock, slow. My hands tighten on her hips on reflex. She does it again.
“Are you going to make me beg?”
She kisses my jawline. “I think I deserve a little groveling.”
She slides forward again. Slower this time. The drag of her wet pussy against the underside of my cock without taking me in is a punishment I designed for myself.
“Bianca, you’re not playing fair.”
“But I am.” She rocks her hips forward one more time. Her mouth is at the corner of mine. “You know what you did. And now you want to be inside me.” She bites my bottom lip, softly. “Beg.”
I have not begged for anything in my life.
My hand slides up her back, into her hair, and I bring her mouth to mine.
I kiss her, slowly, and against her lips, I say it. “Please.”
She doesn’t lower. She slides forward again, slow, the wet heat of her dragging the length of me from base to tip, and the small wet sound makes my breath hitch.
My hands flex on her hips. I’m vibrating.
“Please what, Theo?” Her voice is sweet.
Her hips are not. She rocks forward one more time, and the head of my cock catches at her entrance for half a second before she lifts away.
I grunt out my frustration.
“No, sir,” she says. “You’ve been a very, very bad boy. One please is not good enough.”
“Please, Bianca.”
She kisses my cheek, my chin, and my mouth. Her hair has fallen forward, and the ends of it drag across my chest, and the sensation is unreal. “More.”
I tip my head back against the headboard. My eyes close. “I’m an asshole.”
Her hips still. The drag stops.
I open my eyes. She is watching me. Her mouth is parted. Her hand has come up to my jaw.
“Keep going,” she says.
“I’m an asshole.” My voice has gone somewhere I have never let it go. “I am the asshole who treated you like shit. I don’t deserve you.” I have to breathe. Her thumb brushes once against my jaw. “I don’t deserve to be inside you, Bianca. I know that.”
She doesn’t look away.
“But if you give me a chance.” My hand has come up to her hair without my permission. “I won’t let you down. Not again. I’ll spend the rest of my life not letting you down.”
She lines her pussy up to my cock, lowers an inch. Only an inch.
The head of me slips inside her, and we both gasp. I need more, but I resist thrusting my hips up. I’m giving her the control.
She’s holding me at the entrance of her. Watching me.
“Say please one more time, Theo.”
“Please.”
She lowers herself onto me.
Slow. So slow. The sensation is a tight, slick drag.
She stops halfway, breathing through her teeth.
“Take your time.” My hand has tightened on her hip. I’m big, and she needs time to adjust. “Whatever you need.”
She lowers another inch. Then another.
And she moves.
Slow at first. Testing. Watching my face for what I do when she shifts angles, what I do when she speeds up, and what I do when she slows.
My hands go to her wrists. Both of them. I don’t pin her. I just hold. My thumbs trace the inside of each. She doesn’t pull away. She braces her hands on my chest and lets me have them.
She lifts. She lowers. Lifts. Lowers.
“Faster,” I grunt.
“What’s the magic word, Theo?”
“Please. Please fuck me faster.”
She moves faster.
Her hands leave my chest and go into my hair. She holds my head where she wants it and kisses me in the same cadence that her hips move. The room narrows to the feeling of her pussy, the slap of her thighs on mine, and the small, ragged sound she makes at the end of every exhale.
“Fuck.” I exhale against her mouth. “Fuck, Bianca, you feel?—”
“Tell me how I feel, Theo.”
“So fucking good. Your pussy is so tight. So wet.”
She makes a sound in my mouth when she kisses me again.
“Harder, Theo.”
My hands lock on her hips. I take her weight. I drive up into her on her next drop, and the noise she makes is filthy and surprised.
“You like that?”
She doesn’t use words. She nods, closing her eyes, taking my dick.
I do it again. And then again.
She is meeting me on every stroke now, hands fisted in my hair, mouth open against my mouth, taking what I give her. The cheap headboard knocks the wall in time with us. The bed springs are screaming.
I don’t care. The whole fucking town can listen. The whole fucking town can know she’s mine.
She begins to shake. Her muscles tighten. She’s moving faster.
She’s going to come.
I bring one hand between us. My thumb finds her clit. I circle her in time with my hips. Her thighs lock around mine.
She breaks.
Her thighs vise on my hips. The clench of her around my cock drags her name to my lips.
She’s pulsing on me. Her belly is shaking against mine. Her mouth opens against my mouth without sound for one long beat, and then she says my name, three times, one for each pulse—Theo, Theo, Theo.
Her eyes squeeze shut, and then open at the very last second to find mine and stay there. The trust of that, the small, unbearable trust of looking at me while she comes apart, is what finishes me.
The clench of her around my cock pulls me with her on the next stroke.
My hips lift up into her one more time and lock there. The pulse of me into the condom comes in long, hot waves I can feel against the base of my spine. My arms crush her down onto me, pinning her chest to my chest, her stomach to my stomach, her pulse to my pulse.
I can’t stop the small jerk of my hips up into her, again, again, smaller each time, until I am shuddering against her while she is shuddering against me. The only thing holding either of us upright is the headboard and the grip of my arms around her back.
We don’t move.
Her arms come around the back of my neck. Mine wrap the small of her back. The headboard is finally still.
She lifts her head.
Her thumb comes up to my cheekbone.
I take her hand in mine and kiss each finger. “Am I forgiven?”
She pretends to weigh it. “Not entirely.”
“I see.”
“But. Going down on me like that. Fucking me like that. Giving me two orgasms. That is a step in the right direction, Theo.”
I laugh. “I’ll take a step in the right direction.”
I lift her gently off me and deal with the condom. By the time I get back to her, she has burrowed under the sheets.
I get under with her and pull her against my chest. Her head goes on my shoulder. Her hand goes flat over my heart. Her leg comes up over mine. The yeti shirt is somewhere on the floor.
“Goodnight, Theo.”
“Goodnight, Bianca.”
Her breathing slows against my throat. Four minutes. Her hand on my chest goes lax. Her leg gets heavier. She makes a small sound against my collarbone, half a sigh, half a word she didn’t finish, and then she’s gone.
And only then do I allow myself to sleep.