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I reach down to stroke my thumb along his cheek. “I thought you had moved on. I thought you had forgotten about me.” I swallow a harsh breath. “And then I saw the wedding band on your chain…and the tattoo…You still have my name tattooed on your skin.”
His eyes grow hard. Somehow, my words have enraged him. “You think I could ever forget you? You think that’s even possible?” He slaps my thigh again. “Fuck the ring and the tattoo, Alana. Don’t you know that you’ve carved yourself into my heart, into my bones, into my fucking soul? Don’t you know that I’m yours, whether you’re wearing my ring or not?”
“Oh god, Davis.”I love you. I love you so fucking much. I love you.The confession is a tingling sensation sitting on the tip of my tongue. I want to say it so bad. But I can’t. That would only complicate everything.
His gaze shifts away from mine. His face grows red. His jaw flexes. And I realize that he regrets the confession he just made. It’s too late, though. I won’t let him take it back. His words are already locked inside the cage of my heart.
My ex-husband growls. “Lay back, Alana. The only sound I want to hear is you begging for more.”
He spreads my knees as wide as they’ll go. My pulse kicks in my throat, screams in my ears as I wait for his touch, for his tongue, for hisanything.
Finally, his coarse fingertips spread my folds apart. With a torturously slow stroke, he swipes his tongue to the seam then circles my clit. I grind down on the bedding again. My spine curves off the mattress and I release a long, reedy moan.
When I’ve reached the peak of my desperation, he dips his long middle finger inside me. Inch by inch he fills me with his digit before curling the tip to stroke that spot that always makes my eyeballs roll back into my brain.
How have I survived four years without this man’s hands on my body?
And more importantly, how am I supposed to go back to life without him once we leave this tiny middle-of-nowhere cabin?
Eyes honed in on my reaction, Davis inserts a second finger and then a third. Stroking, twisting, plunging deep into my wetness. And just when I’m turned on to the point of anguish, he covers my clit with his mouth.
“Oh god, yes!” I croak up to the ceiling with abandon.
He brushes his lips over my electrified bud, then he follows up with a soft lick. Clamping my thighs around his neck, I throw my head up to the rafters and moan.
It’s been…so…fucking…long.
He chuckles. “Eager, are we?”
“God, yes.” My hands grasp for his hair. I don’t even have the wherewithal to play it cool at this point. I forgot how good it feels to have his mouth on me, eating me.
He plants the soles of my feet on his shoulders and slips his hands beneath me to lift my ass off the bed. He dives deeper. He takes his time, slowly rediscovering my body, becoming reacquainted with parts of me he was never supposed to see or touch or taste again.
His tongue flicks my little bud, back and forth, up and down, slow and fast. Each swipe of his tongue and drag of his teeth take my sweet anguish even higher.
Then Davis’s fingertips stroke my rear hole and my butt cheeks go tense.
He grabs my thighs, pushing them apart. “Keep these legs open. Don’t make me tie your ankles to the bedpost. You know I will.”
That’s not an empty threat. My brain fills with past memories of him doing just that. Tying me up. Handcuffing my wrists. Binding my ankles. Rendering me helpless. Then having his way with me.
I whimper and squirm, my arousal ratcheting up. I spread my legs wider for him.
“Good girl.” He grins arrogantly.
“Wicked man.” I chuckle, breathless.
“Stop complaining. We both know you love it.”
He’s right about that.
And there’s no point in trying to deny it. From the way my body’s reacting, he wouldn’t believe me if I tried to say otherwise.
Davis gives my clit one slow pull between his lips as his fingers curl inside me, swiping my G-spot, instantly making me see stars.
And fuck it—I’m done.
My shoulder blades tense, lifting my back off the bed. “I’m coming, Davis.” I make the announcement with a loud shout.
