Chapter Twenty-Three-Andrea
I freeze when the door slams shut.
Then he’s there.
Remy.
All six-foot-whatever of lethal, tattooed fury—eyes blazing, jaw locked, moving like a predator who’s finally cornered his prey.
Me.
God help me, I am his prey.
The little pink toy slips out of my fingers with a startled gasp when he bats it away, and then his mouth is on me.
Hot. Hungry. Relentless.
My first orgasm hits hard and fast, but I know Remy, and one is not his number.
My voice breaks on his name, and I don’t even recognize the desperate, needy sound I make.
His tongue licks into me like he owns me.
Like this body was carved for him and him alone. And the worst part? Maybe it was.
Because nothing has ever felt this good.
Not a single thing.
Not even close.
His big hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider, pinning me down when I try to twist away—not because I want to escape, but because the pressure is too much.
The intensity too sharp.
But he growls against my pussy, and the vibration rockets through me.
“Don’t run, Baby. You give me this. You take this.”
I sob his name again. My hips buck against his face. Shame and lust coil together until I can’t tell one from the other.
Every filthy, forbidden thing he’s whispered in the dark comes rushing back—breeding, filling, making me his, marking me.
And the insane, terrifying truth?
I want it.
I want him.
I want every dark, dangerous promise he’s made.
Heat licks up my spine, coiling, building, and I know I’m close—so close I can’t breathe.
“Remy, I—oh God—I’m gonna—”
His eyes flash up at me, emerald fire locking me in place. His lips curl against my flesh, wet and glistening with me.
“That’s right, Andy. Give it to me. Come on my mouth. Show me who owns this sweet pussy.”
That breaks me.
Shatters me.
I come undone with a cry, back arching, thighs shaking, every nerve ending sparking like fireworks as my orgasm rips through me.
“That’s two,” he growls.
And Remy doesn’t let up.
He drinks it in. Keeps licking, sucking, groaning like my pleasure is his lifeblood.
When I finally collapse against the pillows, trembling and ruined, he pulls back just enough to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like the devil himself.
“Fuck, you taste like sin, Baby. And I’ll never get enough. But I need to feel you come on this cock. Can you do that for me?”
I nod because right now, I’d do anything for him.
And let’s face it, his ask? Is it really for him?
He grins, shrugging out of the rest of his clothes and crawls up my body, kissing my flesh as he goes. My legs, my stomach, my tits, my shoulder, and my neck.
Then he cups my face and holds me there, searching my eyes like he’s trying to find something in them. Meaning? A reason? I don’t know.
His cock is pulsing, leaking all over my slit, but he doesn’t move yet. He doesn’t stretch me and fill me like I need him to.
He’s just staring down at me, watching like a hungry predator. Then, before I’m ready, before I can take a breath, he’s dropping his head and fusing our lips, forcing me to breathe him if I want air, and I do. I need it. I need him too, though.
Christ, this man can kiss.
Feelings I don’t want to own up to crash over me, making my brain feel fuzzy and squeezing my chest.
My whole body trembles, and he just holds me through it. He holds me and kisses me, and before I know it, I am lost for him.
Completely and utterly lost to the way he loves on me.
And this time, when he pushes inside, I make a desperate wish.
No more games. No more lies.
I wish he really was in love with me.
But whether or not he does, it’s already too late.
Because I think I might be falling in love with him.