Page 104 of Promise

Always for me, he said. Only for me.

That’s how I feel about him. Only he can create this rush inside me. This desperate need to be close to him.

He moves his lips down my chest, dragging his tongue along the edge of my dress. The top scrunches, pulled together by a string. He tugs at it, allowing the bodice to open. And while he squeezes me over my dress, causing me to cry out on the pinch of my already hard nipple, he’s a man on a mission, lowering for the hem.

“You like that,” he teases, knowing I did. He’s always been this cross between rough yet tender.

He shoves my dress to my lap.

“You have sexy kneecaps,” he says, stroking his hands over my thighs and staring at the bend in my legs. “Might want to fuck you with those boots on one day.”

“Promises, promises,” I tease until he lifts his head and kisses me again, hard and fast, like he’s imprinting that promise on my lips.

Like we have one day, someday, on the calendar ahead of us.

He lowers to one knee, spreading my thighs wider, and bringing me to the edge of the table. He just stares at my center.

“Never thought . . .”

I cover his lips with my fingers. “I don’t want nevers. I want now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he teases, eyes simmering with lust, as he glances back between my legs. He drags the back of his hand up my thigh and then swipes a finger down the damp strip between them.

“Looks like you made a little mess in this pretty underwear.”

I’m wet, soaking the material, and giving him a show.

Reaching for my hips, he tugs at my panties, and I lift, allowing him to drag them off of me.

With my hands on the table, I spread my thighs just a little bit wider, giving him an even better view.

“Stunning,” he whispers, like those folds are the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen.

He kisses one knee and squeezes the other, working his way up my leg. Then he inhales.

“Heaven.” He blows over where I’m soaked and ready.

“Dart,” I whisper, needing him. Needing this. It’s been so long since his lips have touched me there.

“I know, baby,” he says, like he’s just as hungry to taste me as I am to be tasted.

Then his mouth is there. His tongue, thick and flat, licks up my seam. I cry out at the suddenness, even though I’ve been anticipating it, wanting it.

“It’s been so long,” I whimper, flashing back to when things were only functional between us. Quickly, I pull my thoughts from that time.

“Too long,” he hums against me, wiggling that tongue against my clit before sucking me, kissing me.

I reach for his head, slipping my fingers into his hair, tugging a little at the wavy strands.

The movement only spurs him on, licking and lapping, treating me like I’m precious.

I lift my booted heel to the edge of the table. The position opens me even wider for him, allowing his tongue to go even deeper.

“Yes,” he whispers against me, like he’s the one on the edge of something monumental. He’s on the brink of coming undone.

With my dress open at my breasts and the rest of it in my lap, plus my foot on the table, I’m a mess. And I’m a fucking goddess, crying out in my head, Feast.

As if Dart hears me, he doubles down, digging deeper with that tongue, adding his fingers into the fray. Two slip easily into me, stuffing me, filling me.