Chapter 23 Lofton
LOFTON
It had been two weeks since Brooke, Zoey, Jenn, and the family had gone home. The farm was quiet without them, but Devon and I had fallen into a comfortable routine. Dare I even say, a normal routine.
Wake up together.
Shower together.
Eat breakfast together.
Feed horses together.
Then, when Dad would wake up, we’d branch off, counting down the hours until we could fall right back into bed together.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, kicking my bedroom door shut behind him. “You got naked without me?”
“Just trying to speed things up.” My hands went for the waistband of his jeans, but he quickly gripped my wrists and pinned them behind my back.
“Who said we need to speed up?” He dipped low, nipping at my lower lip.
“Me,” I gasped, pressing up on my toes to capture his mouth in a scorching kiss.
He let out a deep rumble, tangling his tongue with mine, all the while walking me backward toward the bed.
“Easy,” he warned, stopping at my small twin mattress. “I told you I wanted to eat your pussy before we do anything else tonight.”
Yep. He had told me that multiple times throughout the day, and coincidentally, that was exactly why I was in a rush. “You’re so mean. You’ve been teasing me all day.”
His mouth curled into a devastating smile. “What’s that I hear? My temptress doesn’t like being on the receiving end for a change?” He released my wrists and pressed a hand to my chest until I sat down on the bed.
As soon as I hit the comforter, I spread my legs wide and dipped my fingers between them. “I like being on the receiving end a lot, actually. But currently, I’m questioning your follow-through.”
His face darkened, his gaze dropping to the movement between my thighs. His smile twisted into something far more dangerous. “My follow-through, huh?”
I nodded. “I almost started without you.” It was a massive lie. Devon had gotten me off every night with his fingers, mouth, or his cock. I wasn’t sure my hands were even necessary anymore. Well, unless it was for the mornings when I used them to get him off in the shower.
Still staring as I teased my clit, he licked his lips. “Should I sit this one out?”
My fingers stilled, and I shot him an incredulous glare. However, the words came out as an unmistakable whine. “You promised.”
Chuckling, he jerked his chin in silent command for me to move up the bed.
I did not delay.
Grabbing the back of his t-shirt, he peeled it over his head, revealing all glorious muscle and tan skin. He pressed his knee to the bed beside my head, his fingertips trailing down my stomach. “How about you let me take over and you use those hands for good and not evil and free my cock?”
“That’s what I was trying to do earlier.” My head flew back as he dipped a single digit inside me. “Oh my God.”
“See, you were in such a rush, and now you won’t stop talking. Which is it, Lofton? You want to talk, or you want to come on my face?”
He pulled out of me, adding another finger before gliding back in.
I arched off the bed, sliding my hand around his hips to palm his rock-hard ass.
“Button’s not back there, babe.”
It wasn’t, and his jeans were putting a serious damper on my sudden desire to suck his cock while I came on his hand. I made quick work of his button and zipper as he watched with a hooded arrogance that held more promise than any word he’d spoken that day.
A hunger grew within me as his length popped free, hard and thick, so fucking ready to drive into me, I was almost willing to forgo his mouth.
Almost.
I wrapped my palm around his shaft and sat up just enough to suck him to the back of my throat.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, curling his fingers inside me.
Sparks exploded inside me, my lungs seizing as he shifted his hips, dragging himself from between my lips.
“So fucking greedy tonight,” he rasped.
That was more of a truth than he even knew. Over the past few weeks, I’d become addicted to Devon Grant in every way imaginable. It was safe to say he wasn’t running from me anymore. He didn’t seem to remember that he’d ever tried.
He’d leaned into this—into me—with a kind of certainty that made it impossible not to follow. Not just physically, but in all the ways that mattered more.
We stayed awake late into the night, naked and sated, devouring and unraveling each other with questions and conversation. Piece by piece, color by brilliant color, I’d gotten to know the real Devon Grant. And he was so much more than I ever could have expected.
He laughed a lot, rich and infectious. Gone was his perpetual scowl. He never once missed an opportunity to greet me with a heart-stopping smile.
There were still parts of himself that he kept quiet, fluidly steering conversations when things hit too close to home.
But that’s what people did when getting to know each other, slowly revealing the not-so-flattering bits that made you human.
I sure as hell wasn’t dumping my deepest and darkest secrets at his feet yet either.
Though after meeting Sebastian and protecting me against a literal stalker, he knew the majority.
We still had to figure out his job. A relationship with a client was frowned upon in his world—I just hadn’t realized how seriously they took it.
Our first and only quasi-argument had come when I’d offered to personally hire him if he left Guardian.
I was frustrated and sick of hiding from the cameras, and his “Fuck no” had come far too quickly to sit right with me.
In pure Devon fashion, he’d recognized the hurt in my eyes, gathered me in his arms, and spent the next few hours filling my ears with stories of his second family—Jude, Lark, Alex, Brayden, and yeah, even a few of Apollo.
It should be known, Guardian Protection Agency was wild. The film industry could make a fortune on the tales of those men and the lengths they went to protect the women they loved.
And all of that, knowing he was surrounded by good people who he didn’t want to lose, sat exactly right with me. Even if it didn’t make our lives any easier.
But we still had our nights together, in my room or his. And for now, that was the only place I wanted to be.
“I wouldn’t have to be greedy if you’d hurry up and get me off,” I murmured.
His mouth curved, that same hooded arrogance settling in like he had all the time in the world. Slowly removing his fingers, he lazily brushed his thumb over my clit. “You want my mouth?”
I moaned, grinding my hips against his hand, begging for more. “I want all of you.”
“You already got all of me, Lofton.” His jeans rustled as he worked them the rest of the way down his thighs. He hadn’t come into the room with his boots on, and as he continued his tender assault on my clit, I sent up immeasurable gratitude that he didn’t need to use both hands to get naked.
I lost his touch when he prowled to the foot of the bed, his heated gaze locked on mine as he lowered himself to his knees. A squeak flew from my mouth when he caught my ankles and dragged me down the bed. Then, one by one, he methodically positioned my legs over his shoulders.
His warm breath fluttered up my thighs. Anticipation built inside me, need painfully growing the longer he made me wait. “Devon,” I begged.
“Yeah, baby.”
“Please.”
A smirk tilted his lips. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”
He lowered his head, inhaling slowly before running his tongue along my slit.
“Yes,” I hissed, my hands going straight to his head, fingers gripping his hair. “Right there. Yes. Oh God, don’t stop.”
And he didn’t. He feasted on me with a patience so deliberate it bordered on torturous, every nerve ending in my body lighting up in response. He added two fingers inside me, curling and coaxing, while his tongue matched the motion until I shook beneath him.
It took seconds rather than minutes for my first orgasm to find me.
“Devon,” I whimpered before I shattered, completely undone.
He didn’t bother cleaning up before he came up to kiss me. Our lips met, and I tasted myself, causing a seed of possession to grow in my chest.
Me. On him.
Us. Together.
The kiss became frenzied, his hand finding my breasts as I slid a hand between us to palm his length.
“I need inside of you, now,” he growled against my mouth.
“Take me,” I breathed back.
As he crawled on top of me, the bed let out a loud squeak, announcing his arrival.
“Dammit,” he froze.
With feral eyes, he glanced around the room. There was nowhere else to go, and just as I decided to sprint across the hall to his bed, he let out a low rumble. “Good e-fucking-nough.”
In the next beat, he folded his arms around my middle, and I was up off the bed, my legs dangling between us until my back hit the wall. Then I circled them around his waist. His mouth came down over mine with a demand I was all too eager to answer.
And then, finally, it was his turn to be in a rush.
In a single fluid movement, only Devon was capable of, he tipped his hips away, shifting me just enough to allow his cock to find my entrance and then drove in hard.
I buried my cry of ecstasy in his neck as he claimed every inch of me—body, heart, and soul.
Using his upper body strength, he lifted me and then forced me back down with a rabid intensity. His fingertips bit painfully into my sides, but even that seemed to heighten the pleasure.
“Jesus,” he groaned, sweat beading on his forehead, every muscle in his neck and shoulders straining beneath my arms.
And I clung to him, knowing with absolute certainty he would never let me fall.
I bit down on my bottom lip, my fingernails digging into his shoulders as my hips chased the release teetering inside me. He kept his rhythm steady and relentless, fucking me with a brutal strength of passion.
“Lofton,” he warned, but I was already there. Wound to the point of breaking, my body snapped, an orgasm tearing through me, wave upon wave upon wave.
He followed fast, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside me.