41. Chapter 41
forty-one
Sadie
“Why am I the only one naked right now?” I panted, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts as he kept working his way over my body like I was something worth studying.
“Because I want to take my time,” he said, voice low, deliberate, “and if I get naked, I’ll be too tempted to fuck you instead of showing you how much I fucking worship you, Sadie May.”
The shiver that tore through me was sharp and sweet, arching my back off the bed just as his mouth closed around one of my nipples.
His hands were rough, calloused from work, dragging over my skin in a way that didn’t soften his touch; it deepened it.
It reminded me he could take care of me.
And not only could he, but he wanted to.
“Will you build the crib?”
He popped off my nipple with a wet sound, grinning as if I’d just amused him in the middle of his favorite meal. “Is that what you want to talk about right now?”
“No—yes—no, but I can’t help how my mind works.”
“Let me help you turn it off then.”
Before I could respond, he hooked my thick thighs over his shoulders, his palms firm on the outsides, and dragged me to the edge of the bed like I weighed nothing. Then he dove into me with the kind of passion most people save for art.
The shock of pleasure made my whole body bow, a strangled sound leaving my throat as his tongue worked me over with steady, greedy strokes. His name tore from my lips, loud, unfiltered, and his grip only tightened.
Yes, my brain wasn’t thinking about anything now except the way his mouth felt on me.
“You taste different,” he murmured against me, his breath hot over my slick skin.
“Huh? Bad?” My voice cracked halfway through the word.
“No,” he said, pressing a kiss to the inside of my thigh before returning to my center, “just different. Still you, though. Still my favorite treat you’ve ever given me.”
His words sent another shiver rolling through me, and I clenched around nothing, desperate for more of the pressure only he could give.
He didn’t rush. God, he didn’t rush. His tongue traced me like he was mapping every curve, every soft place that made me gasp. One hand held my thigh in place, fingers digging just enough to anchor me, while the other skimmed up my side, rough knuckles grazing my skin before circling my breast.
Every stroke of his mouth was unhurried, patient, like he was savoring me. Like he was intent on wringing every sound from my throat one careful pass at a time.
I fisted the sheets, then reached for his hair, tangling my fingers in the soft strands, trying to guide him where I wanted him most. He ignored the urgency in my touch, holding me down with his hands and with that infuriating, delicious pace.
“Daniel,” I groaned, my hips trying to chase him.
He lifted his head just enough to meet my gaze, his mouth glistening, his expression a mix of heat and command. “I said slow, sunshine.”
Then he went right back to me, his tongue circling, dipping, teasing until my head tipped back and my breath came in ragged bursts. My thighs trembled against his shoulders, not from fatigue but from the way he kept me right on that knife’s edge—close enough to see it, never letting me cross.
When I whimpered, he made a low, satisfied sound against me, the vibration sending another wave of heat through my body.
“Let go,” I begged, not even sure what I was asking for. Was it release, control, him?
But he didn’t speed up. He kissed me there, slow and sweet, before pulling back just enough to say, “Not yet.”
Diesel
Sadie had been the only one taking care of Sadie for far too long. No one had spoiled her, protected her, or made her let go. I was going to tame that stubborn streak if it was the last thing I ever did on this Earth.
Hell, I kind of hoped it was.
I hummed around her clit, sucking the little bud into my mouth and dragging my tongue over it just the way I knew made her toes curl. Every time her breath hitched or a gasp slipped free, I made an invisible tally mark in my win column.
“Dan—fuck, please.”
I lifted my head just enough to catch her gaze, my mouth slick with her. “Not Dan.” My lips quirked in mock offense. Then I dropped back down without warning, sealing my mouth over her again and savoring the way her hips jolted at the contact.
Torturing her might be my new favorite kind of foreplay.
I buried my mouth against her, over and over, stopping just as I felt her muscles tighten. She was on the edge, but not quite ready to snap. She growled low and fierce, and I added two mental tallies right there.
“I’m gonna die. You’re killing the mother of your child. Was that your plan all along?”
I laughed, the sound was rough, and she shivered under me, her breath hitching hard.
When I finally pushed harder, sucking her clit like I meant to own it, I slid two fingers deep inside her dripping wet heat.
The sound that ripped from her throat hit me like a punch. It was raw, desperate, pure need.
Her hands clenched around my wrist, pulling me closer like she was afraid I’d disappear. Her body arched hard, trembling with every stroke, ready to shatter.
I hummed low and slow, kept the pressure just right, and she broke apart beneath me, her release flooding my hand, soaking my face.
I swallowed every drop like it was the only thing keeping me alive.
Nectar. Mana. Ambrosia.
I lapped her up until she melted into the mattress, and I knew I had done my job.