CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Trudy
I woke slowly, awareness creeping in through layers of sleep. Something warm. Something wet. Something...
Oh God.
My eyes flew open as sensation crashed through me, my back arching off the mattress. Stephen was between my thighs, his broad shoulders forcing my legs wider, his mouth working against me with devastating precision.
“Stephen.” His name came out as a gasp, my hands flying to his head, fingers tangling in his hair.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause. Just growled against my pussy, the vibration making me cry out. “That’s right, baby. You’re awake now. You’re wet and ready for me, and I’m gonna make damn sure you remember why you’re mine.”
Jesus Christ.
Terry had been gentle. Considerate. He’d touched me like I was something fragile, something that might break if he wasn’t careful.
Harold had been passionate. Attentive. He’d made love to me like it was an art form, something to be perfected.
But Stephen... Stephen ate my pussy like he was starving for it. Like he owned it. Like he had every goddamn right to wakeme up this way and make me come apart before I was even fully conscious.
“Fuck,” I gasped, my hips rolling against his mouth. “Stephen, I...”
He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against my soaked flesh. “You what, darlin’? You gonna tell me to stop?”
“No,” I whimpered. “God, no.”
“That’s what I thought.” His voice was pure gravel, rough and possessive. “Damn right, no. This is mine. You’re mine. Now shut up and let me eat my breakfast before I lose my goddamn mind.”
Then his mouth was on me again, his tongue circling my clit before sucking it between his lips, and I stopped thinking altogether.
The orgasm hit me like a freight train, ripping through my body with an intensity that made me scream. My thighs clamped around his head, my back bowing off the bed, my fingers gripping his hair so hard it had to hurt.
He didn’t care. Just held me down with those big hands on my hips and kept going, kept licking and sucking and fucking me with his tongue until I was sobbing.
“Too much,” I gasped. “Stephen, it’s too?—”
“You can take it.” His voice was muffled against me, commanding. “Give me another one.”
“I can’t?—”
“You can.” He slid two thick fingers inside me, curling them just right, and I shattered again.
This time when I came, I felt it everywhere. In my toes. In my fingertips. In the base of my spine. It rolled through me in waves, each one stronger than the last, until I was nothing but sensation and need and his name on my lips.
When he finally pulled back, his beard was soaked, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked up at me from between my thighs.
“Fucking beautiful,” he growled, his voice rough and possessive as he crawled up my body. “You know that? Love watching you come apart for me like that. Love watching that pretty pussy squeeze around nothing, desperate for my cock. You’re mine. Every goddamn bit of you.”
I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. All I could do was lay there trembling as he crawled up my body, all muscle and ink and raw masculine power.
He kissed me, and I tasted myself on his tongue. It should have embarrassed me. Instead, it made me moan into his mouth, my hands sliding down his back to grip his ass.
“Need you,” I whispered against his lips. “Please, Stephen.”
“Yeah?” He positioned himself at my entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against me. “Need my cock, darlin’?”
“Yes.” I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer. “Please.”
