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I drag my fingers up the abraded skin of her inner thigh and she shivers.
I lick her from backhole to clit and her entire body jolts.
"Ohmigod," she moans, "oh, Axel." She digs her fingers in my hair and her thighs squeeze about my face. I grip her hips, drag my finger down to play with her backhole.
She freezes. I thrust my tongue inside her channel and she jerks. I continue to eat her out as I slide a finger inside her backhole. At the same time, I squeeze her gorgeous breast.
She pushes her hips up and into my mouth, even as she tries to pull away the upper part of her body. I laugh against her pussy and she moans.
The noises she makes. Fuck, they drive me out of my head with desire. I tear my mouth from her core, then crawl up her body. I urge her to wrap her legs about my waist as I position myself against her opening. I bracket her body with my elbows on each side of her, holding up my weight as I stay poised.
"Look at me," I order and she raises her heavy eyelids. She holds my gaze as I thrust forward and bury myself to the hilt. My pelvis hits the soft flesh of her pussy and she pants. She digs her heels into my back and winds her arms about my neck. She buries her fingernails into my shoulders as I begin to fuck her. In and out of her; in and out. I tilt my hips, plow deeper inside her, and her breath hitches. I hold her gaze as I try to drill into her, going as deeply as I possibly can. Her pussy clamps down on my cock and I stay buried in her.
"I want to crawl inside you and never leave," I growl. Jesus! I sound like a man possessed. Like a man obsessed. A husband who’ll never get enough of his wife. I pull out of her, then ram into her with such force that she moves up the mattress. The entire bed jolts; something crashes onto the floor behind me as I hold her gaze. "Come with me." I ram into her and her mouth falls open.
Her spine curves and she screams as she comes. I cup her cheek, lower my forehead to hers as I empty myself inside her. My breath comes in pants and my heart thuds in my chest. I stay there for a few seconds before I fall over onto my back, taking her with me. I fold my arms about her, hold her close. "Sleep," I murmur, as I close my eyes.
When I wake up, I am alone. I glance about the bed, the room, jump to my feet and barge into the bathroom. It’s empty.
"Fuck," I swear as I grab a pair of sweats and step into them. I snatch up my gun, slide it into the waistband of my pants.
Then I snatch up my phone and glance at the security app. Everything seems normal. None of the doors or windows have been opened. My steps slow as I walk down the steps. When I hit the ground floor, I hear her singing. Huh?
I walk toward it and the scent of coffee and bacon reaches me. My stomach rumbles and I head for the kitchen. I walk inside to find her dressed in my shirt, that hits her mid-thigh. She’s piled her hair on top of her head in a messy bun with tendrils curling about her shoulders. I lean a hip against the doorway watching as she bumps and grinds as she sings the words of a song I don't recognize, "F-i-r-e… oh. F—iii-r-e, oh."
I chuckle under my breath, then walk over to her.
"F-i-rr-e, oh. Fiiii-r-e, oh," she sings again.
I lower my head until my mouth is next to her ear, "Very appropriate." I smirk.
She yells, then drops the spatula she had been using to scoop the bacon onto a plate.
40
Theresa
The spatula clatters on the counter and drops of fat singe my skin. "Ouch." I grimace and bring my hand up to my mouth to suck on it.
He catches my wrist. "Let me." He lowers his mouth to the back of my hand and drags his tongue across the reddened skin.
Goosebumps pop on my skin. My toes curl. He closes his lips around the hurt skin and sucks on it. I feel it all the way to my core. He continues to lave my skin and my nipples tighten. Hell, I had just been in his arms, in his bed, and he’d been inside me several times last night, but apparently, I’ve not had enough of him.
I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me. He lavishes attention on my hurt skin like it’s the most important thing in the world. The way he gently holds my wrist with his other palm cradling my elbow—the contrast between the darkness of his skin and my more pale one is almost obscene.
"I am fine," I insist, but all he does is walk me toward the sink. He turns on the tap and holds my arm out under the running water. The pain instantly fades away. A sigh spills from me.
"I am sorry I surprised you," he murmurs. "I saw you in my shirt and stopped thinking."
My cheeks burn. I shoot him a sideways glance to find him focused on keeping my arm under the running water. A-n-d, he’s bare-chested. He’s wearing his pants that ride low on his hips. His biceps bulge as he keeps my hand trained under the tap. Gosh, he’s ripped. I’d felt those cut planes of chest last night, but seeing him in the light of day, standing in front of him in all his gorgeous glory, sends vibrations of lust shooting down my spine.
"It’s nothing," I insist, "it barely even hurts anymore."
He switches off the tap, then raises my arm to examine it, "It’s best to put an anti-burn ointment on it so it doesn’t scar."
"It’ll be fine." I try to pull away again. Not that he lets me.
He levels that hypnotic, blue gaze on me, then guides me to a chair at the kitchen counter. "Sit," he commands and I sink down into the chair.
