Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Lainey
One second, he’s sitting on the edge of the mattress…
The next, I’m pinned to it.
“Sawyer—”
He kisses me, and this time there’s not the least bit of hesitation in it—it’s as though the leash on his control has finally snapped and I’m getting all of Sawyer, every piece and emotion and…need.
God, there’s so much need.
It calls to the well of yearning inside me, the torrent of wanting I’ve had for months.
So maybe it’s like a leash has snapped inside me too.
Moaning, tangling my tongue with his, I dive my hands into his hair and throw myself against him, pushing him to his back, climbing on top of him.
“I’ve been dreaming about this ever since that first night,” I whisper as I bend and drag my lips along his jaw. “About this body. About touching you. About feeling you inside me again.”
A groan rumbles through his chest. “Pages—”
“Yeah,” I murmur, flicking my tongue out to taste him, to tease the flat oval of his nipple. To nip at it, making him jump, his hands clenching on my shoulders. “I’ve written pages and pages about you.”
“You have?”
“I have,” I say, dragging my tongue down his chest, tracing the ridges on his abdomen, the lines that dip toward his hips.
“Pages and pages and—” I nudge the waistband of his underwear down, the springy curls beneath teasing my chin, my nose.
“Pages,” I finish as I give the material one final tug and his cock springs free.
I wrap my fingers around the hard length of him and stroke.
He groans. “Will you let me read them?”
I’m mid-bend, my lips mere millimeters from the head of his cock, a glistening bead of precum right there.
I flick out my tongue, lap up the salty drop, loving the way his dick twitches, his body jerks, his voice goes raspy as he shouts my name.
“Yes,” I say, dragging my mouth along his shaft, flicking out my tongue time and again, tasting, teasing, worshipping him. “Of course, I’ll let you read them.” I part my lips—
“Lainey!”
Take him deep, so deep his hard cock is bumping the back of my throat.
I swallow him down as I stroke him, as my free hand cups and massages his balls, as I feel him grow harder and thicker, as each inch I take in my mouth makes me more and more desperate to have him inside me.
To let him stretch me wide.
To fuck me hard.
To—
“Pages,” he rasps. “Baby.”
I suck him deeper.
He growls. “Lanes—”
I stroke him harder.
Faster. Wetter. Deeper.
Until his hands go beneath my shoulders and he yanks me up, breaking the suction of my mouth with a soft pop. I start to protest but then he’s rucking up the lace of my nightgown, bunching it up around my waist.
“Fuck, I can’t wait to have this pussy,” he mutters, his hands tracing along the insides of my thighs. He slides them in, dips his fingers into the slickness of my desire.
“So have it,” I order.
“Oh, I will.” He leans in and blows lightly. “I just need to do this first.”
“Do what—”
He kisses me.
Not on the lips.
Or not the lips on my face.
He buries his in my pussy, licking and sucking, circling my clit, shoving one blunt-tipped finger into the heat of me. My insides convulse, trying to keep him inside even as I want more, need more—more fingers. No, his cock.
“Sawyer, I—”
He doesn’t stop—and oh, I’m thankful for that as he kisses me, as he works my pussy and clit with his fingers and tongue.
As he slides one broad hand up my middle and shoves it under the bunched-up material.
I cry out as he cups one breast and then the other.
“Sawyer!” I gasp as he rolls my nipples, feeling the beginnings of my orgasm shuddering through me, little ricochets of pleasure zinging through my body.
“Uh-uh,” he says, pulling back.
Leaving me suddenly bereft.
Leaving me empty and aching and—
A warm hand on my cheek. Another behind my back, coaxing me up enough to pull off my nightgown and toss it aside.
“Sawyer,” I say—or maybe it’s that I beg.
“Together this time, Pages,” he says softly.
The raging inferno of my need eases slightly…is replaced by a softness, an affection, a different type of yearning altogether.
“Sawyer,” I say again. “I—”
I love you.
But something has my throat stoppering up, the words staying trapped inside.
Too soon. Too much.
Neither of us is ready.
He rests his forehead against mine, exhales softly before brushing a kiss over my lips. “I do too,” he murmurs.
My lungs spasm, and I press my hand to his cheek, eyes sliding closed for a heartbeat.
Then I open them again. “Now, handsome.”
“Now,” he repeats.
He grabs his pants from the floor, digs into the pocket and pulls out his wallet.
A moment later, he’s rolling the condom down his cock, is coming back over the top of me, and our gazes are locking as he asks softly, “Ready?”
I hitch my leg around his waist. “Yeah, honey.”
He shifts, notching the head of his cock at my entrance and pushing inside.
One inch. Another. Another. Another.
And I was right.
He stretches me wide, oh so good.
I moan as he finally bottoms out.
He groans then rests his forehead on mine again. “Okay?” he rasps, the tension of holding himself back in every single cell in his body.
“Better than okay,” I whisper. “You feel perfect. This feels perfect.”
His face—fuck, it’s beautiful. “Pages,” he whispers, his eyes a little glassy. “I—”
“I know,” I tell him, my heart squeezing hard. “I know.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, a thousand emotions in the air between us, a thousand promises, a hundred unspoken fears.
Complicated and beautiful and more than anything I’ve ever dreamed of.
Then his cock twitches.
And my pussy responds by clenching him tight.
“Now,” we say in unison…
And it’s the last thing we say for a good long while.
Because he’s drawing back and then he’s thrusting, doing it deep and hard and fast—as though both of our bodies think we’ve waited long enough for this and are just giving in to the sprint to the end, the rush to the finish line…
The dash to completion.
And, oh God, it’s there.
Right there.
Big and looming and almost scarily big.
Threatening to incinerate me, to shatter me into a million pieces and scatter them in all directions.
It’s terrifying, so terrifying it’s hard to breathe.
Because I’ll never be able to put all those pieces back together.
I’ll always be missing parts of me, chunks of me, slivers of me—
“I’ve got you,” Sawyer murmurs, cupping my jaw and kissing me lightly, his strokes gentling. “And I’m not letting you go, Pages. Not today.” Another brush of his lips against mine. “Promise.”
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
“I know.” His blue eyes lock onto mine. “I am, too.”
And that, more than anything, is what loosens the sudden knot of terror inside me.
Because I’m not alone in this.
Because he’s right here with me.
I wrap my arms around him, bring my lips to his ear.
“Then let’s be scared together.”
His smile is gentle…but his strokes aren’t, and oh how I’m thankful for that. Worry fades, sensations rule, and then that huge, scary orgasm is upon me—catapulting me over the edge and into peaceful, perfect oblivion.
I’m barely aware of Sawyer’s thrusts going choppy, my name on his lips, his body going taut…and then lax as he collapses on top of me.
Bliss. Nirvana. Pleasure.
All of that.
More.
Because it’s a sense of completion unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
That realization is what finally has me starting to drift back into myself.
Slowly, I become aware of his body on mine. Aware of his fingers stroking nonsensical patterns along my side.
Aware that something has changed deep inside me.
That this was never going to be one night.
That…I’ll never be the same.
My stomach clenches, nausea burning the back of my throat—
But before I can truly panic, he’s cupping my cheek.
“Was that in The Book That Shall Not Be Written, Pages?”
I freeze.
Then grin.
“No,” I say. “But it damn sure is going to be.”