20. Serena #2
My eyes catch on something else, and I pull back and drag my finger over his ribs, under his arm, where a beautiful four-leaf clover is inked in gorgeous deep-green detail beside an hourglass lost in an ocean. I gasp and trace the stem of the clover as I look closer. “Is that . . . ?”
There’s a tiny S at the base of the stem. So small, you’d miss it if you weren’t as close as I am. And even now, I’m tempted to jump up and turn on the light to look closer.
“You were always it for me, Serena. You were everything, and I was only the lucky man who got to be worthy. Even when I wasn’t.”
“You put me on your body . . .” I breathe out, like a prayer slipping past my lips before pressing them against the tattoo.
“You already owned my body and soul, princess.” Strong, warm hands cup the back of my head, bringing my face back to his as he steals the breath from my lungs, and my walls crumble around me. His lips devour mine, worshipping me like I’m the air he breathes and he can’t get enough.
“I’m sure,” I whimper, and Hendrix’s baby blue eyes darken, the only warning I get before his mouth is back on mine. Demanding and devouring in a way only he could ever be.
In a way I crave.
In a way I’ve missed.
Callused fingers find my jaw, tilting my head, and I throw myself into our kiss, letting go of every ounce of fear and hesitation. Letting go of the past.
Clinging to the present. To him.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs as his lips trail down the length of my throat and suck the tender flesh on the side of my neck. “Relax,” he whispers into the darkness, and I arch and gasp as he pinches one peaked nipple and tugs the lace cup of my bra down to soothe the soft skin with his tongue.
“Oh God,” I keen and squirm as Hendrix’s hands slide along my ribs, settling on my hips as his lips follow the same path. “Please, Hendrix.”
“I’ve spent fucking years without you, princess.” He presses his mouth to one hip, then the other, his eyes locked on mine, the devil dancing behind those beautiful blue irises. “I’m going to spend all fucking night showing you just how good we are together. Don’t rush me.”
Yes, please is all I manage to think before both big hands possessively slide up the inside of my thighs, spreading me.
His lips pressing against my knee, then higher, and —ohmygod—he licks and sucks the tender flesh until I’m spiraling with anticipation as heat spreads along my hypersensitive skin.
And blissfully, every worry falls away, and I’m suddenly left solely focused on this man and this moment. On his hot breath against my cool skin. His rough fingers and the need pooling deep in my core. On the way this man has always made me feel when it was just us.
Safe. Loved. Whole.
My body trembles under his touch. So utterly desperate for him, I’m ready to detonate like a bomb when his fingers finally slide along the edge of my panties, teasing me over the lace with his mouth.
A needy moan spills past my lips, long and loud. More. I need more.
“Such a pretty pussy, princess.”
I close my eyes, so close already, and snap them right back open as he slaps my pussy, sending heat straight through my core.
Holy shit.
“Eyes on me, Serena. I’m going to need you to watch me make you come, baby.”
Fuck, I forgot how much I love that. That commanding voice. Pleasure mixed with the warm sting of pain that leaves me throbbing for him.
I force my eyes open and slowly drop them to him with a wanton smile, and God, the feral look in his eyes is everything.
Hendrix licks me through the expensive lace, and I moan until he stops.
What in the edging hell?
“Tell me you want this, baby.”
“Oh my God, I want this—you—so badly that if you stop now, I may never survive, Hendrix Sinclair.” I lift up on my elbows and suck in a sharp breath at the gorgeous view I’m met with.
His wide shoulders, golden skin, and that fucking gorgeous face looking up at me from between my legs .
. . “Fuck me,” I sigh. “Do those words work for you?”
He slides his thumb over my clit through the lace, a beautiful cocky smirk on his face.
“That’ll do.”
My legs tremble as he pulls me closer, burying himself between my thighs.
“Jesus, Hendrix,” I moan as electricity courses through my body, a million nerve endings sparking to life as I curl my fingers in his dark hair and hold him where I want him.
He spears the tip of his tongue along the lace covering my center, and chills pebble my overheated flesh.
“Hendrix,” I pant his name over and over like a prayer, having no clue what the hell I’m praying for. Maybe for this to never stop. To never end.
“So fucking sweet,” he growls against my sex, finally pushing the lace aside and flattening his tongue. Tasting me. Teasing me. Fucking me with his fingers and his mouth and his tongue. Soothing an ache and fueling my need until I’m writhing beneath him, breathless.
“Please, please, please,” I chant, rocking my hips against his face, chasing the high only this man has ever given me, knowing without a doubt exactly what I want and that I want it now.
“You’ve got to be quiet, Serena. Bodhi’s sleeping, baby. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes . . .” I whimper as he pulls me closer until my brain stops working, and I can’t think or speak, just feel.
My orgasm teases me, just out of reach. Building like the storm. Beautiful and powerful . . . a force of nature threatening to destroy everything in its path. Including me.
Fuck, if I don’t welcome my destruction, trembling and moaning. I give myself over completely to this man until lightning crashes and the world explodes. My back bows off the bed with a muffled scream as my orgasm hits me with the force of a thousand fireworks raining down.
And I know without a shadow of a doubt, Hendrix will always own my body and my heart.