I pull back, tsking softly. “Ah-ah-ah. Did I say you could move?”
“Sorry,” he gasps. “Please, Harri—”
“Please what?” I ask innocently, trailing kisses along his scruffy jaw, loving the rough scrape.
“Please... more. Do anything. Whatever you want.”
I smile against his skin. “What a good answer. And since you asked so nicely...”
I capture his lips again, this time with deliberate intent. The kiss deepens, and he responds with equal fervor—matching my intensity while still yielding control. His restraint is both impressive and maddeningly arousing. The taste of him floods me—mint intertwined with something distinctly his own, something I couldn’t replicate or forget if I tried.
As our tongues dance, the heat from his body radiates against mine, and I can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his heart pounding in time with my own.
I shift slightly, and Gale lets out a guttural moan that vibrates to my core. The sound is primal, needy, and it sparks something deep within me. I tighten my grip on his wrists, feeling the strength in his arms as he instinctively tests my hold.
As I pull away, I nip his lower lip playfully, relishing the sharp gasp. “Very good,” I purr, my voice so husky it’s almost unrecognizable to my own ears. “I think you’ve earned a reward. Let’s see what other skills that mouth has?” I murmur, trailing a finger along his jawline.
He swallows hard, his throat working visibly. When he speaks, his voice is rough, barely above a whisper. “Please,” he breathes, the word a prayer and a plea rolled into one.
I lean in close, letting my lips brush against the shell of his earand kitten flick my tongue against his lobe. “Please what? Use your words.”
“I want, no, Ineedto taste you. Now. Please.”
I pull back to look at him, taking in every detail of his face. The usual cocky grin is gone, replaced by parted lips, slick from our kisses. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple, and I watch its path, mesmerized at my own power here.
“Youarebeing so good,” I murmur, releasing one of his wrists to card my fingers through his hair. He leans into the touch like he is starving and I’m nourishment. “You want this, don’t you? Want to give me everything.”
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 inmy 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 lapsand 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.
