Chapter Seventeen #3
His entire body shudders, as a strangled “Yes!” tears from his throat.
I pull away suddenly and sit back on my heels. The abrupt loss of contact leaves him momentarily adrift—his eyes flutter open,
confusion and raw desire battling across his features as he blinks up at me. My fingers tremble as they find the buttons of
my blouse. This reality transcends my fantasies—there’s no darkness to hide in, no digital barrier between us. Only his gaze,
intense and unwavering, tracking each new inch of skin I unveil.
The silk slides down my arms with a whisper, pooling beside us as I resist the instinctive urge to shield myself from such
open admiration. When I reach behind to unhook my bra, his sharp intake of breath cuts through the silence between us, sending
liquid heat coursing through my body. The straps slip from my shoulders, and I watch, transfixed, as he goes utterly still.
I’m not sure he is even breathing.
The power in that—in his restraint, in his hunger—steadies me. Makes me remember who’s in control here.
“So prove it,” I challenge, my voice steady despite the clench in my core. “You want to be mine? Earn it and put that big mouth to work.”
“Fuck, Smythe.” He surges up, flipping our positions. But instead of pinning me as I expect, he slides down my body, leaving
a trail of discarded clothing and devouring, wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake.
As he settles between my thighs, he looks up at me, his eyes seeking permission even now. The sight of him like this—powerful
yet submissive, eager yet restrained—is almost too much to bear.
“Did I say to stop?” I prompt, threading my fingers into his hair. God, the texture.
Gale’s response is immediate and electric. He opens me with his thumbs and stares a few long beats, unfocused, as if the view
of my exposed pussy is an object of worship. As his hungry mouth meets my heated flesh with a thick lick of his tongue, I
can’t hold back a cry of pleasure. And as he sets to work, eating me out with a dedication that borders on reverence, I realize
that this mighty, self-proclaimed unconquerable man is well and truly mine.
He pulls back for a moment, chest heaving. “Jesus Christ,” he gasps, gaze wild. “Your taste is fucking . . .” His tongue darts
out, licking his lips. “It’s like . . . fuck. It’s perfect.” His gaze locks with mine, dark and hungry. “You’re so wet. Is
that all for me? Because of what I’m doing to you?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
All pretense is gone; he’s reduced to pure want.
“I’m gonna make you come so hard,” he promises, voice low and urgent. “Gonna make you scream my name. Gonna be so good you’ll
never forget.”
The room fills with the obscenely wet sounds of his enjoyment, punctuated by my increasingly desperate pants.
His tongue moves with expert precision, alternating between long, lazy laps and quick, teasing flicks.
Each movement sends shock waves of pleasure coursing through my core, causing my back to arch and my fingers to tighten in his hair.
I’m mesmerized by the sight of him feasting. His eyes are closed, brow furrowed in concentration as if he is undertaking the
most important task of his life.
“Look at me,” I command, my voice husky.
Gale’s eyes snap open, meeting mine without faltering. The depth of emotion I see there nearly undoes me—hunger, need, desperation,
and something deeper that I’m not ready to name.
I tug at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. “Don’t you dare quit,” I gasp, feeling an intense tension building within
me.
He responds by redoubling his efforts, his strong hands gripping my thighs as he devours me with renewed fervor, sucking my
clit.
The tension within me coils tighter and tighter, like a spring wound to its breaking point. Gale must sense how close I am,
for without breaking rhythm, he slowly brings his hand up, fingers poised at my entrance.
I nod frantically, beyond words at this point. He slides two fingers deep inside, curling them in perfect synchronization
with his tongue, milking my G-spot until the world explodes into a kaleidoscope of sensation. I’m lost. Wave after wave of
pleasure crashes over me, each one more intense than the last.
Through the haze of my climax, I am dimly aware of Gale’s continued movements, drawing out my pleasure until I am a trembling,
oversensitive mess. Only when I weakly tug at his hair does he finally relent, pressing a soft kiss to my inner thigh before
resting his cheek against it, his breath coming in heavy pants.
As the aftershocks subside, I look down at him, taking in his disheveled appearance. His lips are swollen, chin glistening with evidence of his efforts. His eyes, when they meet mine, are dark with unfulfilled desire, but there is also a hint of pride there, at having pleased me so thoroughly.
I reach down, cupping his face in my hand. He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When they open again,
the raw need I see there takes my breath away.
“Please,” he whispers, voice rough and desperate. “I need . . . I need . . .”
“What?” I ask, my thumb tracing his lower lip, pressing over the ridge of his teeth. “Tell me.”
He swallows hard, conflict clear on his face. This proud man, always so in control, is struggling to voice his secrets. But
I need to hear it—need him to surrender that last bit of himself to me.
“Fuck me,” he finally rasps, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Use me. Please, I . . . I can’t take waiting anymore. I’ve
waited for years.”
The desperate vulnerability in his plea sends a fresh wave of desire through me. I sit up, pulling him into a fierce kiss,
tasting myself on his lips. When we break apart, both panting, I push him onto his back, straddling his hips.
He looks up at me, gaze desperate, his hands hovering uncertainly at my waist as if he isn’t sure he is allowed to touch.
I can feel his thick cock, so hard and ready beneath me, his hips making small, involuntary movements seeking friction.
I lean down, my lips brushing his ear. “Are you sure?” I whisper, rolling my hips teasingly against him. “Once we do this,
there’s no going back.”
He shudders beneath me, hands finally gripping my waist with bruising force. “Yes,” he groans. “God, yes. I’m yours. I think
I’ve always been yours.”
I sit back up, drinking in the sight of him—flushed, desperate, and entirely at my mercy. As I slowly begin to sink down onto him, savoring the delicious stretch, a sudden, wild thought occurs to me.
I pause, causing Gale to let out a frustrated whimper. “Wait,” I say, my voice tight with the effort of restraining myself.
“I need to know something.”
Gale’s eyes, hazy with lust, struggle to focus on me. “Anything,” he pants.
I lean down, my lips against the shell of his ear, and whisper.