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“Okay.” I nod, somewhat in a dream state. None of this seems real.
A butterfly’s kiss.
“Tell me,” he says as his teeth latch on to the lip I’m currently biting, tugging it free and soothing it with an enrapturing lick, rendering the rest of me completely boneless. “Tell me you’re mine, Ivanna.”
For the love of all the pretty holy things, what is he doing to me?
“I’m yours, Wells. Only yours.”
He lets a heavy breath tumble out with my vow. “That’s my good girl.”
And his lips crash into mine as I whimper at his praise, my head bouncing off the door from the force, but I don’t care. He tastes of strawberry candy, safety, and dominance. The blurring of right and wrong. I think he could make the depths of Hell feel like paradise. My legs climb to his waist. His erection presses against my core as my hips grind and my nails cut into the solid, flexed muscles of his back, gripping and scratching. Needing more.
He chuckles softly into my mouth. “So fucking greedy, Little Storm.”
His hand fists in my hair, yanking it with a sting that jolts a wave of pleasure down my spine. I moan, and he peppers kisses over the column of my throat, his fingers digging into the notch below my ribs. His intensity suggests he’s no less greedy, but I don’t have the wherewithal to argue.
His mouth abruptly abandons this sensual ambush, hands cradling my face, his hips gluing me to the door, both of us panting. “You’re so goddamn addictive. Lemon and raspberry. Vanilla. Everything I crave.” Our lips touch for another gentle taste before his face grows more serious. “Clothes off.”
Ordinarily, a command like that would piss me off, so for a split second, we stare each other down. A dare. But I’m convinced the payoff of obedience will be well worth it, so when I reach to shrug my shirt off, he releases my legs, tearing off my flowy, wide-legged pants in a smooth peel as he drops to his knees.
Pulling my panties to the side, he glides a finger through my folds to find me sopping. “So wet. Is this for me, baby?”
“Yes,” I purr. “For you.”
A smile blooms on his face as he sucks his fingers clean.
Holy. Hell.
His eyes stay connected with mine, verifying consent before he strips me of my panties. I drop my bra to the floor at the same time and stand before him, bare. Vulnerable. Aching.
He’s still kneeling before me, gaze raking up and down my naked form. “Fucking breathtaking.Jesus.”
That response unravels every nervous fiber within me. His hands find mine, placing them in his hair before he palms my ass and kisses teasingly at the apex of my thighs while I wiggle and writhe for more. He’s merciful, and the tortured tease is brief. I whimper as he begins to gingerly lick and flick his tongue over my clit, flattening over me with languid strokes, slipping inside me and swirling back up. The sensation is nearly too much, yet still not enough.
He slings my right knee over his shoulder, gripping my hip. Then, the same on my left, sliding me up the door so it feels like I’m floating. Letting go of one hip, he plunges a finger inside me, curling it until the fullness and the warmth of his increasingly zealous tongue causes my thighs to tremble on his shoulders. I hold on for dear life. My fingers claw at his hair like an anchor while his face remains buried between my legs, his stubble prickling the skin of my inner thighs with a delicious bristle. He groans in approval, adding a second finger while I buck against him.
It burns a little, but in the best way. And a tightness builds in every muscle, a surge of electricity in every nerve ending.
I can’t breathe or think. “Fuck, Wells. Oh God.”
“That’s it, baby. Come for me, Ives. Now.” His voice is husky and stern, his order sending me right over the edge.
I’m no longer floating. I’m fucking flying. Something explosive rips through me, poaching my strength until I’m curled over his head, spasming. His mouth and fingers never stop as I quake around him. When he slides us down, puddling to the floor like a melted snowman, I have no words. I’ve orgasmed, of my own accord, countless times, but that was something entirely new. My body is still convulsing as I straddle him on the floor, a sheen of sweat glazing every inch of my skin.
He holds me there, in his tight embrace, for far more than a minute or two, before finally whispering in my ear, “I’ll be starting every morning like that, the flavor of your sweet cunt coating my tongue. Fuck, baby.”
His words draw a gasp out of me, so he holds me a bit snugger, fingers scratching up and down my back and playing with my hair. The moment seems too tender for Wells, and yet it feels exactly right. My mind begins to slip away—his feathery touch, his hand petting my head, his breathing steadying mine, causing my imagination to veer to other places.
I tip my chin up. “Wells, that was … I don’t know what that was. But I want more—to taste you, to have you inside me.”
Planting an adoring nibble on my lip, he dusts his thumb over my cheekbone. “That’s good because we’re just getting started. I wanted you to catch your breath.”
He stands with me hooked on to him like a koala bear and moves us to the bed, propping himself against the headboard. “I don’t usually repeat myself, but for the sake of clarity, this is it. You’re mine now. Every part of you. You’ve been mine from the start, but now, you know it too. Understand?”
His claim on me sends my pulse skyrocketing.
“Yes,” I breathe.
