Page 63 of Spock’s Snare

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he growls before his tongue gets busy. He bites, nibbles, and licks, building the pleasure into a crescendo. My hips want to move, but his arms trap me in place like a vise. All I can do is throw my head back and take what he’s doing to my body. The orgasm comes slowly, building and building until it roars through me.

In a move so smooth that I don’t see it coming, Spock rolls me onto my back and slides into me with one powerful thrust. He fills and stretches me. I feel incomplete when he draws back out, but sigh with relief when he slams back inside. He repeats the motion over and over until I no longer feel his absence; I only feel him. We fit together perfectly. The pleasure grows and grows, and I feel another orgasm rushing forward like a train. I don’t want it to end, but I don’t know if I can take any more. He slams his mouth against mine as he swallows my scream. His hips piston again until he moans out his own release.

As soon as my mind returns to my body, I stiffen as he pulls out. He looks at me with confusion and worry as he stands. I glance down to see him removing a condom, and I breathe a relieved sigh.

“Are you okay?” he asks me as he ties it off.

“When did you put on a condom?” I ask in surprise.

He chuckles. “When I distracted you with my tongue.”

Embarrassed, I cover my face with my hands. How could I have been so oblivious as not to have noticed? Worse, how could I have been so distracted as to forget about protection?

When Spock presses a warm, damp cloth to my pussy, I uncover my face and just stare down at him.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“Taking care of you,” he replies. “I’ll always take care of you.”

Seeing the truth in his eyes eliminates any remaining doubts that I had about the wisdom of my decision.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: SPOCK

I draw the covers back and guide Chloe under them, keeping one hand at her waist until she settles against the pillows. Her movements are slow and unsteady, her body loose. A possessive satisfaction rolls through me at the sight of her in my bed, her hair tangled around her face and her skin still flushed from what we’ve shared.

She belongs here.

The thought comes fast and certain. I don’t question it, and I don’t try to reason my way around it. It feels too right to be anything but the truth.

I climb into bed beside her and pull the covers over us. The second I open my arm, Chloe shifts toward me as if she’s coming home. I draw her against my chest, fitting her body along mine. She rests her cheek over my heart and places one hand flat against my chest.

Having her here with me settles something inside me. This feels familiar, even though it shouldn’t.

I curl one hand around her hip, holding her close. With the other, I cover the hand resting over my heart, trapping it beneath my palm. Her fingers twitch against my skin before relaxing.

For several minutes, neither of us speaks. The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and our breathing slowing. I stare at the ceiling while my thumb moves back and forth over her hip.

“We should probably talk,” Chloe murmurs.

The words are hesitant and softened by exhaustion.

My body tenses, although I can already tell she’s half asleep. “About what?”

“About this.” Her fingers shift beneath mine. “About how it might change things.”

She’s wrong. There is no question that this changes everything. At least as far as I’m concerned. But this isn’t the time to tell her that. Chloe will need to be fully awake when we have that conversation. She’ll need time to think through every angle, consider every possible complication, and build whatever defenses she thinks will protect her.

Then I’ll tear every one of them down. I won’t push her or make demands. But I will prove to her that we belong together and that she can trust me with everything she is.

I tilt my head and press my lips to her forehead. “We’ll have time to discuss everything in the morning.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

The word drifts into silence. Within moments, her breathing deepens, and her body grows heavier against mine. She’s asleep.

I remain awake, my hand still covering hers. The weight of her beside me doesn’t feel strange. Instead, it feels complete.

She’s right. Things between us will change after tonight because I don’t want this to be a one-off. I won’t let her feel regret or pretend it didn't mean anything, because it means everything. I want her in my bed tomorrow night. And the night after that. I need her to be next to me when I fall asleep, and I need to wake up with her wrapped around me in the morning. Taking in a deep breath, I let the scent of sex and her burrow into my lungs. Oh yeah, this is what I want.