Everly
His mouth brushed lazily over my nipple, warm and wet, tongue flicking once before he closed his lips around it again. I whimpered. Every inch of me felt raw and tender, used and loved. He hadn’t stopped all night. Yet he woke me up at some ungodly hour to wreak havoc again.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, because I meant it. “I won’t mention her again in our bedroom.”
He hummed, the vibration shooting straight through my chest. “My poor baby. Ready to give up?” His breath was hot against my skin, his tone thick with amusement.
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to surrender and let him win. But when his hand slid down my stomach, cupping between my thighs, my body arched into his palm all on its own.
A needy sound escaped me before I could stop it.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured. “Still greedy. Still my wet little fucktoy.”
I nodded, dazed and pliant, letting my legs fall open under the sheets.
Because no matter how wrecked I was… I’d always want more.
“That’s my good girl, open up for your husband,” he murmured, moving between my legs to kneel over me. The sheets dragged with him, warm from our bodies, smelling like sex, sleep and him.
“I can’t get enough of these beauties,” he mused before lowering himself over my breasts.
His breath hit first—slow, deliberate—coasting over my skin like he wanted to remind every cell who it belonged to. His hands framed my waist, thumbs stroking idly, almost tender… except nothing about his stare was soft.
He took his time. Too much time.
“Silas…” I breathed, my hips already shifting, seeking the pressure he hadn’t given me yet.
He ignored the plea, dragging the tip of his nose along the swell of my left breast, then the right, inhaling me like he was starving. Like he was memorising the shape of me all over again.
“Do you feel that?” he asked quietly, rubbing his cock against my thigh. “I woke up hard for you—only you.”
His tongue flicked out, barely a touch, wickedly gentle.
“And this—” another brush, lower this time, right where he knew I’d jerk, “—is for you.”
A frustrated gasp broke out of me. He smiled against my skin, slow and satisfied.
“Good,” he murmured. “Show me what an obedient toy you are.”
He closed his mouth around my nipple again—finally—sucking slow enough to tease and hard enough to claim, one hand sliding down my thigh like he was marking territory inch by inch.
He slid two fingers through my slick, slow enough to make my eyes roll back.
“This—” he pressed lightly against me, just enough to make my hips jerk, “—is the only place for me.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“That woman doesn’t exist in my world anymore.” His fingers sank deeper, curling. “But you do.”
A sound broke out of me—needy and raw.
He dropped back down and sucked my nipple into his mouth with a ferocity that stole the breath from my lungs—long, deep, claiming pulls—while his fingers pushed deeper.
It was a slow, ruthless invasion, and his mouth left my breast with a wet sound that made my whole body jolt. He didn’t move away. He hovered—eyes locked on mine, breath hitting my lips, like he needed me to feel every word.
“Look at me.”
I tried. God, I tried. But my eyes kept flickering shut as pleasure rolled through me.
