Page 16 of His Muse

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he confesses quietly.

I slide my fingers into his hair. Tuggable A.F. “Neither can I. It feels like I’m dreaming. But it’s good, right?”

A gentle kiss brushes against my stomach, followed by the sharp nip of teeth. I gasp, hips jerking up, and he presses me back down. “Yes.” He’s breathing harder. “It’s very good.”

I may be inexperienced, but I’m not completely clueless. I’ve read enough fanfiction and romance novels to know what’s coming next—but nothing could have prepared me for the damp heat of Tudor’s mouth between my thighs. He kisses me slow and dirty through the cotton of my panties, his dark curls brushing against my belly, and I stare up at the shadowed ceiling, wide-eyed.

“Oh mygod.” I yank and twist his wild curls, my feet kicking out at nothing. “That feels—”

Tudor pulls my panties to the side, then dives back in.

I toss my head back, arching off the bed.

“You know how many times I’ve thought about this?” He sounds pissed off, his voice muffled against my pussy, but all I can focus on is the wet, hot glide of his tongue through my folds. He licks and laps at me; he suckles on my clit until my toes curl. “Thought I’ve never taste you, Carmen. Thought I’d go to my grave without knowing how you feel against my tongue.”

Well, whose fault is that? I’ve been right here, waiting for him. Lonely and longing. And that thought makes me cranky, so I lift my hips and yank harder at his hair.

His laugh is dirty as hell, and then his tongue slides inside me.

“Tudor!” My gaze is frantic on the ceiling, but it’s no use. There’s nothing to latch my eyes onto; nothing to distract from the tension coiling in my belly and the sparks racing over my skin and the punishing, steady way he’s licking me. “Oh—oh god. I think I’m going to—”

“Do it.” Tudor sucks on my clit, then rubs his whole face against my pussy. “Come for me, Carmen. I want to feel it.”

So do I. I want to let go so badly, and I want somerelief. So when I screw my eyes shut and tilt my hips, when Tudor licks me just right, I throw myself headlong into the storm building inside my body. I gasp and shudder against the mattress; my limbs tense up and my ears ring. Every inch of my skin flashes fever-hot, and I’m falling, falling,falling.

“Good girl,” Tudor growls when there’s nothing left but my shaky breaths. The mattress dips as he crawls up my body.

It takes a few seconds to get my hands to work again, but then I yank weakly at his sweater. “God, that was—will you take this off? I want to feel you too.”

He hums, so quiet and pleased, then rolls off me. There are soft noises in the dark: the whisper of fabric and the scratch of a zipper. I wait, my body languid, until Tudor crawls over me again, and this time our heated skin brushes together.

Oh, yeah. This is heaven.

And I get the fuss about sex now. I get it and we’ve barely started, because there isnothinglike having Tudor’s warm body stretched over mine. In this moment, I can’t even remember what loneliness feels like, and I trail my fingertips over his chest hair with undisguised glee.

“I like this so much.”

Tudor chuckles, lowering his hips until we slot together, the hard rod of his cock pressed against my stomach. “Good. I like it too.”

“Can we turn a lamp on next time?”

There’s a beat, and then cool air washes over me as Tudor leans away. Fumbling noises drift over from my nightstand, then there’s asnickand a warm glow fills my bedroom.

“Better?” Smoky gray eyes watch me from above, so close and intense. God, I forgot how inhumanly beautiful this man is.

I nod, suddenly shy again. “Um, yeah. Better.”

Every part of my body his eyes land on, I feel a prickle of sensation—a flood of heat, and then a twinge of anxiety. What if my body isn’t what he hoped for? What if all that build up means I can never live up to the hype? What if—

“God, you’re perfect.”

Dark curls tickle against my throat as Tudor ducks his head, kissing over the swell of one breast, his lips sealing over my nipple and sucking gently. An answering pull tugs low in my stomach, and when he releases my nipple and moves over to the other side, the cool air on my damp skin makes me whimper.

“You don’t know how that makes me feel, Carmen. Hearing you saynext time.” Teeth nip against the underside of my breast and I squirm beneath him, so restless and desperate. “Will you let me come back again, sweet girl? Do you want another visit?”

And the onslaught of his mouth on my body must have fried my brain circuits, because I have zero filter when I say, “No shit, Tudor. If I had my way, you’d stay tonight and you’d never leave.”

This time, when he raises his head, Tudor’s eyes are wild.

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