I’d like to deny it. But I can’t. My body is betraying every secret I’ve kept locked away. I’m shaking, undone, and it terrifies me how much I need this—how much I needhim.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His voice vibrates against me. “Me in control. My mouth ruining you while you can’t do a damn thing.”
My hips buck, frantic, but he pins me down.
“Not yet.” His breath is hot and merciless. “You’ll come when I say, baby. After I’ve had my fill.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I don’t know if it’s from the unbearable edge he’s holding me on, or from theraw truth in his words. No one has ever seen me this way. No one has ever cared enough to take control so I could finally let go.
“Nate—” It rips out of me, a half sob, half plea. “Please?—”
He chuckles low, satisfied. “That’s it. Beg me.”
And then he devours me. His tongue works me open, relentless and sure, coaxing, claiming, commanding.
“Good girl.” His praise vibrates against my skin. “Take it. Let me ruin you.”
The belt holds me in place while his mouth drives me higher. Licking, sucking, humming against my clit until all thought ceases, until pleasure becomes an avalanche. His fingers curl inside me, finding the exact spot I need him most. Tears spill hot down my cheeks.
“Nate, please…I?—”
My voice breaks into sobs. It’s too much. Too intense. Too good. I try to squirm away, but he holds me in place.
“Shh,” he soothes between strokes. “You’re doing perfectly, baby.”
My heels dig into the mattress as he spreads me wider, his tongue playing over me with merciless precision.
“Now,” he growls finally, voice dark. “Give it to me. Don’t hold back. Come on my face, baby.”
The words detonate through me.
Pleasure rips me apart, violent, consuming. My wrists strain against leather, my cry torn raw from the deepest part of me.
He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let go. He works me through every last tremor, murmuring against my skin.
By the time the waves subside, I’m wrecked. Boneless. Tears streaking my face. And for the first time in years, I don’t feel broken. I feel whole.
Nate finally eases back, lips glistening, eyes blazing withhunger—and something softer that guts me. He presses a kiss to my thigh, then my stomach, tender in a way that shatters me more than his mouth ever could.
“Breathe,” he whispers. “That’s it. You did so damn good.”
He unbuckles the belt, freeing my wrists, then lifts them gently, kissing the red marks tenderly.
“See how easy it is?” His thumb brushes my cheek. “All you have to do is listen.”
He’s right. I did listen. I gave him everything.
And I want to give him more.
23
THE WALK OF SHAME (EDEN)
Iwake drowning in him.
Not just in his scent, though it’s everywhere. Cedar and leather and the salty musk of what we did. But there’s something else too. It’s the way his presence has soaked into my skin, my lungs, the hollow spaces between my ribs where I’ve been empty for so long I’d forgotten what fullness felt like.
My thigh brushes the solid curve of his hip, and the contact sends electricity through pathways I thought were severed years ago. We’re both naked, though that’s the least vulnerable thing about this moment. It’s the way my body has molded to his in sleep, claiming space I have no right to occupy.
