Chapter 15 #2
The words shouldn't matter. Shouldn't pierce through years of carefully constructed emotional armor. But they do. God, they do.
"It should," I manage. "It should change everything."
"Maybe." Another kiss, this one at the corner of my mouth. "But it doesn't."
Fuck it.
The thought crystallizes with perfect clarity.
I turn my head slightly, brushing my lips against his.
The kiss starts tentative—testing, questioning, offering him the chance to pull away.
But he doesn't. His lips are soft against mine, unexpectedly gentle, and he tastes like beer.
For some reason I can't explain, I love the flavor.
His tongue runs over my lips and I open for him, tongue meeting his in a slide of heat and need that makes my knees weak.
He growls into my mouth and deepens the kiss, and I've never been kissed like this.
Never felt this kind of hunger, this desperate consuming need.
I kiss him back with everything I have, whimpering into his mouth because this kiss is everything—everything I didn't know I was starving for.
He releases one of my wrists and I take advantage immediately, bringing my hand to his hair and pulling at the strands at the nape of his neck. We devour each other. No gentleness now, just raw desperation and three weeks of denied desire exploding between us.
His other hand grabs the skirt of my dress and pulls up. When he gets it all the way up, his palm slides around my thigh and pulls my leg up. I wrap it around him instinctively, and he grinds into me.
Oh God.
He's so hard. The pressure against my clit nearly has me coming right there, still dressed, pinned against a door at a political fundraiser while my husband circulates somewhere beyond these walls. I moan into the kiss and he groans in response, then pulls back.
"Don't stop," I whisper, the words desperate.
He smiles—that devastating smile that transforms his face. "I would kiss you forever." His voice is wrecked gravel. "But we don't have much time, and there's something else I need a taste of. So fucking bad."
Then he's dropping to his knees in front of me.
My brain short-circuits. He lets my leg down gently, then his hands are at my hips, fingers hooking into my panties and dragging them down my legs.
I step out of them on trembling legs, and he brings the scrap of silk to his face and inhales deep with a groan that makes liquid heat pool low in my belly.
The next thing I know, my leg is over his shoulder and I'm holding my dress up while he kisses and licks his way up my thigh, making me shiver with need. Each press of his mouth is deliberate torture, moving higher with agonizing slowness.
"Please," I beg. "Please, Kade."
He groans against my inner thigh, then licks my pussy—one long lick with a flat tongue that makes me cry out and clap my free hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.
"Holy fuck, you taste better than I remember," he says against my wetness, then directs all his attention to my clit.
Licking, sucking, little bites that drive me absolutely crazy.
This is fucking heaven. I've died and gone to heaven.
I've never experienced this amount of pleasure just from oral—didn't know it was possible for a mouth to make me feel like I'm coming apart at the seams.
The room is mostly dark but there's enough light that I can see him. He's looking up at me while his mouth is latched onto my pussy like it's his favorite fucking meal, eyes blazing with hunger and satisfaction.
I feel my body starting to contract, pleasure coiling tight and desperate low in my belly. I bring my free hand back into his hair, pushing his face harder against me. He hums his approval and the vibration triggers my orgasm.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, God, don't stop, I'm—"
My words are cut off by moans like nothing I've ever heard coming from me before.
They rip out of my throat as I come apart on his tongue, pleasure pulsating through my body in waves so intense I can't breathe.
My legs tremble violently but Kade steadies me with one hand on my hip, the other digging into my ass as I ride his face without shame.
Without thought. Without anything except the desperate need to feel every second of this pleasure he's giving me.
The orgasm seems endless, cresting and breaking and cresting again as he works me through it with that talented mouth.
When it finally subsides, I'm gasping, shaking, barely able to stand.
He eases my leg down gently, helps me step into my panties and slides them up my legs, back in place and then presses one more kiss to my inner thigh before rising to his feet.
His mouth is wet with me. The sight should embarrass me. Instead, it makes heat flare again low in my belly, an impossible desire already rebuilding despite the fact that I just came harder than I ever have in my entire life.
He cups my face with both hands, thumb stroking my cheekbone. "You okay?"
The question is so genuine, so concerned, that tears prick my eyes. When was the last time someone asked if I was okay and actually cared about the answer?
"I'm… I don't know," I whisper, the words shaking.