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“Yes.”
He slides his hands to the backs of my knees, down my calves, then slowly back up until I’m dissolving into my bones and dying.
“How turned on are you?” he asks softly, settling a kiss on my stomach.
“I have to put something on that lip again,” I breathe. A thousand flames lick my body as I sit up and reach with trembling hands for my salve and manage to press some to his cut.
He presses a kiss to my fingertip, and I close my eyes as a bolt of pleasure arrows through me. “Remy . . .” I say, melting.
“Lie back down,” he tells me. Dizzy with anticipation, I do as I’m told.
“Don’t kiss me, Remington,” I warn.
He whispers roughly, “Fix me up later.”
A shudder courses through me as he caresses my sex, briefly opening my lips with his thumb while, at the same time, he ducks to slide his tongue across the tip of one nipple.
I buck a little, mewing, and he laughs softly as he licks my other nipple, tonguing it, playing with it, before covering it with his hot, wet mouth and sucking.
He runs his hands up my body, growling, “God, Brooke. You knot me up and tear me open. You’re getting me in you now.”
“Okay,” I gasp eagerly as he spreads me wide, his erection pulsing and hard as he flattens me on my back and covers me with the heat of his body. His mouth sears my own, and I disintegrate on the mattress. We’re both wound up. I need him like I need air. The way our skins touch. The way his calluses rasp over me. The way my hands slide over his slick chest. I claw his back as he buries his face in my neck and his mouth works hungrily over me like he doesn’t know whether to kiss, bite, or lick, so he does all three.
“Who do you belong to,” he rasps urgently.
“You,” I pant.
He grabs my legs and pulls them around his hips, then pins my arms above my head, looking down at me, his eyes devouring my face, my mouth, raking me with a look that is dark, and tormented, and starving.
He curls his fingers into mine and crushes my mouth with his. This closeness to him—the tangle of our limbs, our tongues, our breaths—activates all the pleasure centers in my brain and all the mating instincts inside me. Fire streaks through my veins as our tongues rush to meet. I moan, he groans, my body tingles on every point of contact with his as he rocks his h*ps against me. His chest against my ni**les. His c**k against my sex entry. His thick, powerful leg muscles almost crushing my thighs. Our palms against each other.
My every cell knows this is my mate and prepares me for him. Just him. He lets go of me and palms my ass as we intensify the kiss, his fingers proprietary and firm, bringing me closer until we are perfectly aligned, and I tip my head back so that his tongue reaches every corner in my mouth. “Yes . . .” I gasp.
He draws back, and our eyes meet in the shadows. The need I see in his eyes takes my breath away. He is the most male and mesmerizing thing I’ve ever seen. He ducks once more to set his hot lips on mine. Wet. So, so, hot. I gasp as he slides a hand between my legs. He turns to suckle my earlobe, and I run my tongue over his skin and the stubble of his jaw, anywhere I can taste as he passes his thumb over my sex.
“Oh, that feels so right . . .” A burning rush spreads through my body when his fingers slide between my legs to caress me. My blood starts boiling, and my folds grow damper.
He murmurs my name in that thickened voice that drives me crazy and lowers his lips to my br**sts, laving the tips. They feel extra sensitive today, shooting ripples of pleasure to my sex. I gasp and bite his earlobe, saying his name. I can’t say it enough. “Remy . . .”
“Go off for me,” he pleads, plunging his longest finger inside me. I thrash and clutch his shoulders as his fingers burrow into my cleft. I’m soaked, my whimpers of pleasure echoing in the room.
“Shh, baby, loosen up for me.” He slides down my body and bends to lick my belly button. He drags his tongue down my navel and then I feel him trailing it lower. I scream when he traces my clitoris. He pulls me open with his thumbs and licks into me. Pleasure rushes through me as my body tightens for release. Then I come.
I gasp as he licks me all up and am still thrashing in residual waves when he goes up to his knees between my legs, takes his c**k in his hand, and feeds it into me. I see his muscles clench, his body working as he pushes himself deep. I moan when he presses my cl*t down with his thumb and f**ks me even deeper with his big, thick cock.
Thrashing as a sound of pleasure escapes me, I tilt my h*ps up for more. He mutters my name and leans over to brush kisses along my face, cooing down at me, “You’re so f**king tight, baby. . . . You drive me so crazy.”
When he’s buried in me, we stop.
I hear our breaths, my own rapid heartbeat, in this stillness.
The urgency is there, pulsing and shimmering in our bodies. But he’s in me. I have him. I f**king grip him and don’t want to let go.
He doesn’t want to come out of me—he’s in me. Hard and pulsing. Completely possessing me.
We start kissing as he sinks a little farther in, his mouth primal and raw, loving but deliciously rough. I feel that familiar stretch of him inside me and bite his neck, whimpering as I adjust. He stays in place, waiting for me to start moving.
I wait, though, and pant, my eyes close as I relish him, wide and long and alive, inside me. I love his ni**les, his skin, him. I rub the tips of my fingers over the dark points. I hear him exhale in pleasure as I raise my head to suck one softly. I love his rumble. He takes my head in his palm and tips it back, kissing me lovingly. I tear free and run my tongue over his other nipple. “Remy . . . I can’t wait. . . .”
He growls and starts moving, whispering as he nuzzles the top of my head and tangles his fingers in my hair. Tight . . . beautiful . . . my Brooke Dumas . . .
His words caress me.
Nobody ever taught him how to love.
He does it instinctively.
Pulling me closer, he suckles, nips, bites, and licks me, drawing out the pleasure until my eyes burn. My body clutches him. I can’t breathe, and all I hear in the room are our combined sexy sounds—and the ones he makes drive me half-crazy.
He thrusts, slamming hard. He’s wound me up by now, and I scream. He fists his fingers in my hair, kissing me as our h*ps pump fast and violently, with hardly any rhythm now.
I come a second time, and he penetrates completely and holds me tight as he goes utterly still. I feel his warmth and a hot growl followed by a kiss in my ear as he comes in me. Then we ease in relaxation, our breaths calming.
He grabs me and pulls me to his chest as he rolls, our bodies slick with sweat. He wants me naked, and I want him to hold me naked. He eases out as I start relaxing, then he tests my entry and pushes his se**n back in, surprising me.
Our instincts suddenly take over. My h*ps rock to his fingers. The warmth of his breath bathes my throat as he presses his mouth to my skin. I can hear us, the noises we make—my whimpers and his growls of male satisfaction of pleasuring his mate. A bubbling sound tears out of me as I begin shuddering.
He’s not touching my clitoris. It is not receiving any stimulus, but the way he pets my body with his hand, shoves his se**n back into my body like he never wants to leave, and licks my skin with slow drags of his tongue, makes my sex grip around him and my ni**les bead so that even the air is a stroke that he means to give to me. When he bites the back of my neck, I buck and cry out, “Oh god!”
He pushes me down on the mattress on my stomach and keeps gently biting my neck, marking me as he f**ks me doggy style.
By the time we sag onto the bed, it’s a task for me to summon my energy to move. I’m a boneless heap beneath him, still trying to make my lungs work.
Slick with sweat, he rolls to his back and uses one arm to bring me with him, our skins glistening from our workout. My chest is so full of love and my body so well f**ked, I feel both dead from exhaustion and as alive as the sun. I spread out over him and cup his hard jaw.
“Do these hurt?” I lightly graze the cuts and the slight purple area on his temple. Before he can answer, I buzz a kiss over each one, and I wonder if he’s ever been kissed where he’s been hurt. So I kiss him there, on every mark, and then I kiss the one on his lips, briefly buzzing it.
I ease back and smile at him, stroking his hard jaw. “Did you think about me before you had me? Did you wonder if I existed? How I would be?”
He tucks a strand behind my ear and studies my face. “No.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever fall in love. Did you?”
“Never,” he says again, those sexy dimples out in full force.
I drag my fingernails up to his temple, teasing them into his hair. “What did you think about when you grew up there?”
“I just took what I had and was satisfied with it.” He brushes my hair back and strokes my earlobe. “But if I’d known you existed, I’d have hunted you, I’d have caught you, and I’d have taken you.”
“But isn’t that what you did?” I ask, smiling.
“Exactly”—he bumps my nose with his, his blue eyes laughing—“what I did.”
Sighing, I rest my head on his shoulder and rub my fingers over his ni**les.
He’s the best bed. He’s lying on his back, one arm behind the pillow, the other trailing over my spine, and I’m spread all over him, my tummy to his abs, my br**sts on his lower pectorals, my head on his shoulder and perfectly aligned to tuck into his neck. He smells of different soap every time, with so many hotels we go to, and at the same time, he always smells like him.
