Page 22 of Sincerely, Mr. Braden

The predatory gleam in his eyes, the savage hunger he emits, and the reverence tangled up in all his want have me working myself faster, craving more. As I lift my fingers to touch my breast, I take a detour and put them in his mouth. He sucks and licks, and I swear I feel his tongue everywhere. He grabs my wrist, his eyes blazing, and says, “You do it.” He guides my fingers between my legs, moving them through my wetness. “Now suck them like they’re my cock.”

My heart races as I lift my fingers to my mouth, determined to drive him crazy. I make a show of licking the length of them. His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing, hips thrusting as he grits out, “Suck them.” When I do, he teases my clit with one hand and rolls my nipple between his finger and thumb with the other, sending all my nerve endings into a flurry. He makes the greediest sounds, his every muscle hard as stone as I ride him and suck my fingers.

“Look at you, so fucking sexy.” He paints my nipple with my come, then sits up and licks it off. I’m hanging on to my sanity by a fast-fraying thread, so close to losing it, my thighs are shaking, as he says, “Time to come on my cock, sweetheart,” and sucks my nipple to the roof of his mouth so hard, I detonate. Pleasure rips through me, and I cry out, “Seth—”

The world blurs around me as he continues his masterful ministrations, using his mouth, hands, and body, making my entire being tremble and pulse. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can only surrender to the sweet agony consuming me.

When I finally gasp a breath, his arm circles me, and he rolls me under him in one smooth, claiming motion. His penetrating gaze lights me up inside anew, his lips tipping up devilishly. “My turn, gorgeous.”

His mouth catches mine in a toe-curling kiss that has me climbing higher again, taking me up to the precipice of release. The weight of him presses me into the mattress, solid, heavy, and so achingly delicious, I know I’ll forever be chasing this high. I revel in every inch of him, the strength of his thick thighs braced against me, the heat of his body sealing me in, and the steady, powerful thrusts that bring unrelenting waves of pleasure. I tear my mouth away with a moan. “Look at me,” he rasps.

His gaze locks on mine, shattering me more with every stroke of his hips, as he drives deeper, as coaxing as he is demanding. I revel in it, meeting every thrust with a rock of my hips. He quickens his pace. My nails bite into his back, not to hold him off but to anchor myself as the pleasure builds higher, sharper, merciless.

“Seth, I’m go—”

He captures my mouth in a ruthless kiss as my orgasm crashes over me, and he’s right there with me, tearing his mouth away, growling out my name as a string of incoherent sounds fly from my lips. We cling to each other, riding wave after wave until ecstasy pierces every inch of me.

When we finally sink to the mattress, gasping for air, he gathers me close. His scruff grazes my skin as he rains kisses over my cheeks, my lips, my shoulders, whispering between each one. So beautiful…Sexy girl…My sweet Ellie.

I savor every word, and even limp and trembling in his arms, I want more.

Chapter Eight

Taylor

The grin that’s been plastered on my face all morning is still there as I pull on a white tank top and blue-and-white striped shorts over my bikini. I slip on my sandals and take a quick look in the mirror. I do a double take, shocked by how vibrant I look. My face is brighter, eyes, too. I guess a night of incredible sex, followed by an encore in the morning and a sexy shower, is revitalizing.

I’m excited to spend the day with Seth. I already spoke to my father, and he assured me he’d taken his medication, but I’m never certain whether he’s telling the truth, so I zip off a quick text to Becca.

Me: Did Dad take his meds and eat breakfast? How’s his arm?

I pocket my phone, grab my beach bag, and head out of the bedroom.

The house is sun-drenched. A salty breeze drifts in through the open terrace doors, carrying the distant sound of waves. I catch the rich aroma of coffee and hear Seth’s deep voice before I see him in the kitchen, standing barefoot at the stove, phone pressed to his ear as he cooks eggs. His faded plaid pink swim trunks clash with the faded green-and-yellow T-shirt stretched across his back, but for some reason the mismatched clothes suit him, in the same way the old sun-faded, salt-bitten Jeep we took to the bonfire last night did. It rattled like it was talking to the road.

I thought Seth might have a sleek convertible to match his wealth. But the moment I saw him behind the wheel, wind in his hair, one hand resting on the gearshift, and that easy smile on his face, I realized the Jeep suited him better than a fancy car ever could. That old Jeep, his worn T-shirt, and his easy nature all told the same story of a rugged, unpretentious man who doesn’t need to flaunt a damn thing.

“Yeah, Dad. My team is on top of it.” He pauses, nodding as if his father can see him through the phone. “The numbers look solid, but you know me. I need boots on the ground before I make any final decisions.” He sets down the spatula, turning as I walk in.

The way his face lights up and he holds out a hand to me, like this is what we do every morning, makes my stomach flip. I set my bag on the island and go to him.

When I take his hand, he tugs me against him as he speaks into the phone. “I’ll let you know. I leave next weekend.”

He pauses again, and I realize he’s talking about his trip to Australia.

“Listen, Dad, I’ve got to run. I’m showing a friend around the island today.” Seth tightens his grip on me and smiles at something his father must’ve said. “Don’t go starting any rumors. Tell Mom I love her. ’Kay. Love you, too.” He ends the call, and as he slips his phone into his pocket, he says, “Sorry about that. My dad.”

“That’s okay. Sounds like you’re close to him.” I love getting to see this side of him, hearing the affection he has for his family instead of discerning it from bits and pieces of emails and texts about rearranging his schedule to see them or arranging for special gifts to be sent to them.

He brushes his scruff along my cheek, inhaling deeply, and says, “You smell good enough to eat.”

My thoughts chase back to our shower. I can still feel his slick, strong hands moving over my skin, his rough laugh against my neck, our stolen kisses under the spray as we gave in to our desires. Heat claws up my chest, and then please do hangs on the tip of my tongue.

This is crazy. I’ve never been insatiable for a man before. Seth really does have superpowers. Trying to ignore my greediness for him, I say, “I think you smell the breakfast you’re making.”

As if on cue, the toaster dings.

“Hardly.” He kisses me slow and deep, making me want him all over again.