Page 169 of The Heart You Kept

I laugh around him as we fall into a rhythm, with every stroke I take him, I watch him come more undone. Deep down my throat he pumps me and damn it…. I taste his hot pre-cum and I moan.

He tips his head back as he struggles to hold it. “Fuck.”

Watching him come undone is my favorite thing.

“I’m going to blow so fucking hard.”

“Don’t you dare come without me.”

A flash of a frown crosses his face as he realizes that’s a strong possibility. He pulls me up and walks me back to the couch and pushes me back over it and next thing I know his hands are on my thighs as he holds my legs back up over my shoulders.

His tongue swipes through my swollen wet lips and I flutter.

Oh no…hold it.

“Don’t you dare fucking come,” he growls, he licks me again, deeper this time and his eyes close in reverence.

Edward Prescott doesn’t go down on me for my pleasure, he does it for his.

Never have I met a man who loves the taste of a woman like he does.

His tongue deepens and I see stars and then he’s all in, licking me deep, his stubble burning my most intimate parts. “So fucking good,” he murmurs, his dark eyes rise to meet mine and my arousal glistens all over his face.

Good lord.

He goes again, deeper, more intimate, and then he adds a finger and then another and then two more.

“Oh,” I cry out as my toes curl.

“What’s wrong, sweet Doe?” he whispers as he comes up over me, his lips taking mine, and I taste myself as we kiss. “You need something more.”

I nod, how is he so good at this?

He fingerfucks me with his whole hand, hard and fast.

Brutal.

The sound of my body sucking him in echoes around the room and I see stars.

Oh, I remember this…nobody fucks like this man.

He’s the king.

His fingers get harder and faster and my mouth hangs open as I stare at him, whimpering as pleasure steals every coherent thought.

I shudder…no.

“Now!” I demand as I try to pull him down. “I need you inside of me,” I whisper. “Please,” I beg. “Now.”

With a dark smile he kisses the inside of my ankle that is being held back over my shoulder and he slowly eases himself in. Just an inch, he circles one way and then another. His thick quads are jacked as he holds himself up, my hands rise up over them as I feel his every muscle.

He goes shallow, little pumps, stretching me wider. Burning my entrance but not going any farther in, my body begins to rise off the couch by itself, searching for a deeper connection.

What is this move?

I begin to thrash beneath him. “Harder,” I demand. “Deeper.”

His teeth graze my neck and I feel him smile against my skin.