He stood and turned, and his breath caught in his throat. Those blue eyes were wide, soft but wary, as though she feared he was leaving. Little did she know he’d been wishing for a week of snow if it meant she’d stay in his bed. “The fire was low. Are you cold?”
She nodded and pulled the covers closer to her chin. “Will you come back to bed?”
Fuck, yes. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Her eyes raked over his bare chest and stopped where his cockstand pressed against his long johns. She raised one brow and licked her lips before giving him an uncertain smile. “I am. That’s why I want you to come back to bed.”
That’s it, I’m a dead man. No one could blame him for flexing his muscles a bit and strutting over to her. This woman made him feel like a king, like a god. And to see her smiling? Athim?
He slid back beneath the covers and gathered her close, her head tucked against his bicep and their legs tangled. Her palms spread across his chest and stroked the dusting of hair there, and when her fingertips scratched over his nipple, he sucked in a breath through his teeth.
She hummed. He loved how she hummed, would listen to an entire symphony of those low, earthy sounds. “Do you need to come?” she whispered.
Beyond dead. I’ve visited the afterlife, shook hands with St. Peter himself, and passed through the pearly gates.“Yes, but no—I won’t make—”
“Stop talking.” She lifted her hips until she’d straddled his thighs, one strap of her chemise falling off her shoulder. A light smattering of goosebumps raised across her chest and arms as she resumed stroking his chest as though memorizing the map of his freckles. “I don’t like being in your debt.”
“Why is that?”
A shrug. “It feels like giving up control.”
He wanted to press her, to question why giving something of herself to him was so difficult, but his entire mind shorted out when her wandering hands passed the waistband of his long johns to cup his arousal over the fabric.
“Fuck,” he grunted, gripping the sheets below him. He was about to embarrass himself by coming before she even touched him properly.
“Can I put my mouth on you?”
Was there a plane of existence beyond heaven? Perhaps he should start his own religion. He’d call it Sadism, except that—
“Garrett?”
“I’m sorry, my mind wandered.”
Her brows shot up and her nose wrinkled. “Really?Nowyour mind is wandering?”
He held her hips in place, then slid them his palms up along her ribcage. “I’m overwhelmed. This is…”
A flicker of hesitation passed over her expression. “Too much. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t you dare.” He palmed her breasts and squeezed softly, and some of the tension eased from her spine. “This is phenomenal, so much it feels unreal.”
“Like a dream.”
“Better than a dream.”
She bit her lower lip and released it with a huff, as though irritated with herself for the gesture of insecurity. “You didn’t answer my question earlier.”
“Because you broke my brain, sweetness. You can’t expect a man to be loquacious after such a question.”
“And yet you haven’t answered it and you’re still talking.”
“Then let me be clear.” He cupped her cheeks. “Yes, I’d be delighted if you took me in your mouth.”
A triumphant smile spread across her mouth as she shifted backwards and tugged his long johns down. The frigid air on his heated flesh made him hiss and buck his hips, but Sadie was there,right there, her small hands wrapping around his length. She leaned down and her pink tongue darted out to swipe over the head of his cock before she opened her lips and surrounded him with her warmth.
He shouldn’t be surprised that Sadie took to the task with focus and precision, listening to when his breath caught or he moaned his pleasure. Sounds that, within mere moments, turned into a long stream of unintelligible grunts punctuated byfuck, Sadie… more, God please more… so good, fuck so good…
He couldn’t fight the pleasure racing down and pooling in his spine, the pressure of an impending release that he knew would devastate him, leave him ruined and broken andso damn happy. When he could no longer resist his climax, he pulled away from her eager mouth and grabbed the closest piece of fabric, spilling into the cotton in thick spurts. His chest heaved, the tips of his toes and his heels and fingertips tingling with the strength of his release.
