Page 129 of Theta

I lose her in the process of setting her down, and she whimpers at the loss of me. Her cheeks are flushed bright red and her eyes bright and wild.

Story scoots up to center herself on the mattress and then reaches for me. "Come here, my love. I need you back."

I crawl over her, lean down and kiss her. "I need to taste you first."

"Killy, I—ohhh. Oh fuck—oh god. Killy, Jesus, I don’t need—ohmygod!” Her legs shoot up to hook over my shoulders, soft, thick thighs at my ears, and she bucks against my mouth as I devour her.

She comes again in seconds, and I keep her there, thrusting fingers inside her and fucking her with them as I assault her clit with my tongue. I make her come a third time, and a fourth, because I'm greedy that way. "Fuck, you taste like heaven,” I murmur. "Fucking sugar and honey."

I'm about to go in for fifths when she swings a thigh over and blocks me, and then uses some sort of judo magic to reverse our positions. One second I'm on top, lying between her thighs and ready to drink down the sweet honey of her pussy, and then the next, I’m on my back and she's crawling over me, wide hips swaying, huge tits sliding up my thighs and belly, and then she's straddling me.

"Killy?" Her voice is low and quiet and sharp.

“Yeah, baby?"

She takes my hands and pushes them up over my head. "My turn."

22

A White-Hot Endless Universe Of Us

I've had multiple orgasms before. Hell, Killian gave me multiple O's back in that apartment in Olbia.

But what he just did to me? That was beyond next level. That was…I don’t even know. Heaven? Nirvana? Another plane of existence?

I have never, ever, ever come that hard, that many times. I didn't know it was possible.

My entire being is utterly attuned to Killian Harris, to his body, to the emotions I can read on him like a book.

Five times?

He made me come five times.

And he still hasn't come, despite telling me he'd last thirty seconds.

I sucked him for longer than that.

His control is exquisite; I’ll tell you that much for free.

A thousand things batter and blast through my mind, a firehose of thoughts and needs and doubts and questions and demands. But all of that is eclipsed by one thing—the raw, all-consuming need to feel him come inside me.

To know the oneness of that union.

To be his; to make him mine.

I straddle his belly and lean over him, one hand braced on his chest as I reach down between my thighs to clutch his cock.

His hands, so big and so strong, come to my face and cup gently. "You're so lovely, Story. You take my breath away."

I push my face into his hands, kiss his palm. Notch him inside me, brows furrowed as his thick tip splits me open. "I love you," I breathe. I cover his mouth so he can't reply. "No. Shush. I told you, it's my turn."

Once he’s notched inside me, I hesitate like that, drawing it out. "Ready?"

He nods.

I hold his eyes and prepare myself. Now that I've come, I'm accustomed to his immense size. I still take my time, though, because I want to savor every single moment of this. I've dreamed of it for so many years, wanted it, craved it, needed it, fantasized about it. I've had to wait and wait and wait, through years of longing and pining, through gunfights and death and injuries and recoveries.

No more waiting…