“Make me forget,” I murmur against his lips, my voice breaking with the weight of everything I can’t say. “Make me forget yesterday, forget everything before us, everything but this moment. Us is all I want to remember.”
I cling to him like he’s the only real thing in the chaos. Maybe he is. Maybe right now, he’s exactly what I need.
His answer is another searing kiss, one that leaves me breathless. Slowly, deliberately, we start shedding the barriers between us. Clothes fall away piece by piece, our mouths only parting when absolutely necessary. The air grows thick with the scent of skin, heat, and longing.
When we’re bare, he pulls back just enough to look at me. His gaze sweeps over my body, darkening, deepening with something that looks a lot like reverence.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he says, his voice rough, raw. “So fucking gorgeous.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I don’t look away. His words aren’t just compliments, they’re a promise, a declaration that he sees me, all of me.
He leans in, his lips brushing down my neck, his hands exploring with a mix of gentleness and hunger that leaves me trembling. When his mouth finds the curve of my collarbone, I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair again. He works his way lower, the scrape of his stubble igniting sparks along my skin. By the time he reaches my breasts, my breaths are shallow and ragged.
“These pretty tits have been taunting me for so fucking long,” he growls, his voice dripping with frustration and longing. His mouth closes over one nipple, his tongue flicking in a way that makes my back arch off the bed. A broken moan slips from my lips as his fingers knead the other breast, his touch firm but tender. The contrast makes my head spin.
Every nerve in my body is alive, electric, and he’s the one flipping every switch. My skin is hypersensitive, every touch, every kiss pulling me deeper into a haze of pleasure and need. I feel his chuckle against my skin, low and wicked, as he switches sides, his lips and hands continuing their exploration.
“Ledger,” I gasp, his name tumbling from my lips like a prayer and a curse. My hands grip his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as if I can anchor myself to him.
He stills, his lips brushing over my ribs, his breath warm against my skin as he looks up at me. His gaze locks on mine, deep and searching, like he’s unraveling me with a single look.
“What do you want, Gale?” he asks, his voice low, rough, and laced with something that feels like a plea.
The question is heavy, but the answer rises in me, pure and undeniable, leaving no room for doubt. I meet his gaze, my fingers sliding into his hair, holding him there.
“You,” I whisper, my voice trembling with the weight of everything I feel. “I want you inside me. I want you to make me yours, completely and utterly.”
The moment hangs between us, charged and electric, and I swear the world stops. It’s just us—raw, vulnerable, and drowning in a need that feels endless.
His grin is wicked and knowing. “Good.” Then he’s kissing his way down, leaving no part of me untouched, every movement deliberate and reverent. He’s not just touching me, he’s worshiping me, like he’s been waiting for this moment as long as I have. And when his mouth finds the soft skin just below my navel, I know I’m already undone.
He slides lower, his hands trailing down my thighs and pressing them open. The cool air against my skin contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from him, and my body quivers in anticipation. His mouth finds the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, and I gasp, my fingers clutching at the sheets beneath me.
“Finally. After all this time I get to see your pretty pussy. I knew it’d be so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, his voice husky and teasing. “All glistening for me.”
The words send a jolt of heat through me, my breath hitching as he presses his mouth to me. The first stroke of his tongue has my hips lifting off the bed, a sharp cry escaping my lips. He chuckles against me, the vibration shooting straight through my core, and I’m lost.
He licks me slowly at first, his tongue moving with deliberate precision that leaves me trembling. My hands find his hair, clutching, pulling, desperate for more. He teases me, alternating between soft, featherlight strokes and firm, deep licks that have my legs shaking.
When his lips close around my clit, sucking gently, I moan his name, the sound breaking on a sob. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, his fingers sliding inside me at the perfect angle. The stretch, the fullness, the way his fingers curl just right—it’s too much and not enough all at once.
My mind is a blur, every thought consumed by him, by this. The explosion feels like a distant memory, overshadowed by the intensity of what he’s giving me. It’s all I can feel, all I can focus on. His tongue, his fingers, the way he’s devouring me like I’m his last meal.
My body tightens, the tension coiling low in my belly, building and building until I’m sure I’ll shatter. And then I do. The orgasm crashes over me, wave after wave of pleasure that leaves me crying out, my body arching, trembling, lost to him.
As I come down, my breaths ragged and uneven, I feel his lips pressing gentle kisses along my thighs, his fingers still stroking me softly. My body quivers at the sensitivity, and I reach for him, needing him closer, needing more.
“Ledger,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, trembling with raw need. My breath hitches, my body arching into him, desperate for the way he’s making me feel—like I’m unraveling and whole all at once. “Please.”
As I slowly settle, the world feels distant, reduced to the heat of his breath and the intensity of his gaze. He rises with an easy, deliberate motion, his body hovering over mine, the heat of his skin brushing against me. His blue eyes, dark and smoldering, hold mine captive, his expression a mix of triumph and tenderness.
He leans down, his lips grazing my mouth, soft at first, before deepening the kiss. “Taste yourself,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice rough, electric. “You like it?” His words send a shiver through me, but it’s the look in his eyes that makes my heart stutter.
“The things I plan to do to you,” he continues, his lips curling into a wicked smile before brushing against my jaw, his breath warm against my skin. “I’m not done with you yet, darling.”
His voice is thick with desire, but there’s something deeper beneath it—something possessive, protective, like he’s claiming me in ways I didn’t know I wanted to be claimed.
“I want to ruin you,” he whispers, his words both sinful and reverent, “until there’s nothing left of the world but you and me.”
