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My orgasm ripped through me within minutes. It barely settled when he stood with me and pinned me against the wall. I tasted myself when he claimed my lips for a searing kiss.
“Tell me to slow down,” he panted when he finally broke away.
“No retreating,” I said, grabbing his hair and pulling him back down for more.
He groaned into my mouth. A second later, he was positioned at my entrance. I wriggled, trying to escape him. He tore his lips from mine and looked at me. My steady gaze held his.
“I don’t want to think or give,” I said. “It’s okay if it hurts just a little.”
He silently snarled, and his fingers curled around my neck.
“I will never let you go, Andie.”
“Good thing I don’t want you to. I’m glad you love taking what I pretend I’m unwilling to give. Now make it good.”
He chuckled low, released my throat, and tangled his fingers in my hair. Slowly, he pressed me down to my knees. Then, with his free hand, he pried my mouth open.
“Take me, Andie. As much as you can.”
It was the hottest blow job of my life with his hands in my hair, controlling every aspect of how he used my mouth. All while watching me closely. If my eyes watered, he eased up. He never went too deep or blocked my air for too long. And when he came, he praised me for each swallow. And he kissed me afterward. That was the best part.
“Now that I’ve fed you, you’re mine,” he said, carrying me to the bedroom.
Time blurred. I lost count of the number of positions and orgasms. He stopped once, disappearing while I caught my breath, and reappeared with a glass of water.
While I drank, he kissed my thighs and folds. We showered together. The water felt good on the thunder down under. Then he fell to his knees and ate me out like a starving man again.
I passed out after that.
When I came to, he was slowly fucking me on the bed. His hand was on my throat the way I liked—barely-there pressure while his thumb stroked my skin.
I clenched around him hard, taking in what he was doing to me without my knowledge.
“Did I go too far?” he asked softly, watching me closely. “Should I have waited?”
“No.”
That orgasm dragged out until it felt like it was never going to end. His sudden release pushed me off the edge I hadn’t realized I’d been standing on, and I disintegrated into a million pieces underneath him.
“My pretty, beautiful, Andie. All the remaining moments in our lives will never be enough.”
He kissed my eyelids and my brow, bringing me back to myself.
“Now we have to be done,” I said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.”
“You will. Sleep, my Andie. Sunrise will come soon.”
He left the bed and returned with a cloth. I felt no shame, lying there as he cleaned me up. I’d earned every moment of his tender care. Eyes closed, enjoying the cool feel of the cloth, I drifted to sleep.
Sweat and the need to kick off the covers woke me. But it wasn’t covers that I needed to remove. There weren’t any on me. Only Molev’s front pressed against my back and the weight of his arm over my waist. His hand was anchored over my stomach, keeping me from moving as he slept behind me.
I lightly tapped his arm.
“I have to pee,” I said. “Don’t get up.”
He released me, and I rolled away from him. My legs twinged and ached. Walking to the bathroom was the worst. Sitting wasn’t easy. Standing again had me rethinking my life choices. I used a washcloth to gingerly clean myself and swore I would never provoke Molev to that level again.
However, when I returned and saw Molev awake and on his back with his meat mallet standing proud, I knew I was in trouble. The man dripped with sexiness…and his need for another round.
