Page 38 of Twisted Tate

Tate is propped against the headboard, one hand in my hair, his cock resting heavily on my tongue. He’s watching me with those green eyes, and there’s no judgment in them.

“There you are, baby girl.” His voice is rough with sleep. “You were thrashing. So I gave you what you needed, like I always will.”

I should be mortified. I should pull away and apologize for being so fucked up that I need his dick in my mouth just to work through my shit.

Instead, I close my eyes and suck gently, letting the weight of him anchor me to the present. The nightmare fades. The faces disappear. There’s only Tate, the slow stroke of his fingers through my hair, and the sound of his breathing going ragged above me.

“That’s it.” His hips flex, just barely, like he’s fighting the urge to thrust. “You can always use me.”

I stay like that until my heart rate slows. Finally the shaking stops, and I focus on the man giving me what I need.

When I finally pull off, he makes a low sound of loss.

“I feel like such a needy bitch,” I say. My voice is hoarse.

“Baby girl.” He tugs me up until I’m lying against his chest, my head tucked under his chin. “I woke up and you were already reaching for your mouth. I just figured I’d try to keep you from getting as worked up as last time.”

“How long was I . . .”

“Not long. Maybe ten minutes.” His arms tighten around me. “You slept better last night than the night before.”

“Are you getting any sleep at all?”

“Don’t you worry about me, baby girl.”

I’ve never had a single person give a shit about me like this. I press my face into his neck and breathe him in. That scent has become everything to me. Just like him.

“Thank you for being you,” I whisper.

“You mean for being selfish as fuck?” His hand slides down my spine, settles at the small of my back. “I promise you that I very much like having your mouth on my dick.”

“Even when I’m not doing anything?”

“Especially when you’re not doing anything.” He shifts beneath me, and I feel his cock pressing against my stomach. He’s still hard. “You have no idea what it does to me, watching you take what you need. Knowing I’m the one who can give that to you.”

My chest aches, not from pain. I’ve never felt anything like this before, and I’m afraid of what it means. Because I don’t think I’m strong enough to lose it.

I push myself up on my elbow and look at him. His dark hair is messy from sleep, stubble shadowing his jaw. He looks even sexier like this, a little bit more dangerous, even though I know there is no safer person for me to be with.

“Tate.”

“Yeah, baby?”

I don’t have words for what I want to say. So I kiss him instead.

It starts soft. My lips brush against his in a gentle kiss, but then his hand fists in my hair and he angles my head and takes over. His tongue slides against mine, and the heat that’s been simmering beneath my skin ignites.

I pull back, breathing hard. “I want you.”

“You fucking have me.”

“No.” I shift, swinging my leg over his hips until I’m straddling him. His cock presses against my bare pussy, and we both inhale sharply. “I want you like this. I want to be on top of you.”

Surprise flickers across his face. Maybe uncertainty.

“Reese—”

Did I say something wrong?