I don’t stop.
I ride her through it, tasting the stutter of her release, swallowing the sound she makes when she tips over the edge a second time because I won’t let her drift anywhere but back onto my tongue.
“Cayce—” Her voice is shredded silk. “Please.”
I lift my head just enough to speak against her, lips brushing, tongue teasing. “You’re going to come for me again.” I slide two fingers through the heat of her and ease one inside, slow, deliberate, watching her face.
She gasps, thighs clamping around me. I add the second, scissoring gently, curling until I find the spot that makes her whole body lurch.
“There,” I say, satisfied. “I’ve got you.”
I fuck her with my fingers and my mouth together—steady thrusts, tight circles—until she grabs the sheets and shatters. Her hips jerk while my name tears out of her. She’s wet and shaking and perfect in her innocence and debauchery.
I don’t come up for air until she’s limp and smiling like she can taste the stars.
I kiss the inside of her thigh, then the other, and crawl up her body, dragging my mouth along her skin as if I can mark a path back to where I started.
She catches my face in her hands and kisses me deep, tasting herself on my tongue, making a needy, desperate sound that snaps what little restraint I was holding.
I line up and push in slow, inch by inch, watching her go wide-eyed and wrecked all over again. She’s tight, hot, and clutching at me, heels digging into my back. I bottom out and hold there, forehead to hers, chest to chest, feeling the beat of her heart slam against mine.
“Look at me,” I say, and she does, eyes dark and glassy. “You feel what you do to me?”
She moans and rolls her hips. “Move.”
I do. Long, deep strokes that drag a curse out of my throat every time I pull back and slide home. She meets me, greedy and sure, nails scoring my shoulders.
I shift her knees higher and stroke harder, faster, the slap of skin loud in our room, the headboard knocking the wall.
She’s babbling now—my name, half-words, half-broken pleas that make me feral.
I angle my hips and find that spot inside her again; she jerks, claws at me, tries to pull me deeper. “Right there,” she gasps. “Don’t stop, Cayce—don’t?—”
I don’t. I pin her wrists over her head with one hand and drive into her, merciless and devoted, the other hand holding her jaw so I can take her mouth while I take her body. Her thighs tremble as her core flutters around me and her breath stutters in my mouth.
“Come for me,” I growl, teeth grazing her lower lip. “Now.”
She breaks, convulsing around me, tearing a ragged cry into my mouth. The way she tightens is savage, milking me, forcing me right to the edge. I lose the rhythm and pound into the aftershocks, chasing the heat that’s been chewing at my spine since the moment I tasted her.
“Good girl,” I rasp, and that’s the match. I slam in deep and come hard, groaning into her neck, holding her down like the world might try to steal her from beneath me. She’s still fluttering around me when I finally breathe again.
I don’t pull out. Not yet. I rest inside her, heavy and satisfied, kissing the corner of her mouth, her cheekbone, the soft pulse beneath her ear. She hums, boneless, and slides her freed hands into my hair, scratching lightly at my scalp until my eyes threaten to close.
“You’re not sleeping,” she murmurs, teasing. “We’re not done.”
I smile against her skin, lift my head, and look at the woman who ruined me with a single yes. “No, kitten,” I say, rolling us so she’s on top, my hands spreading over her hips. “We’re just getting started.”
After, the night returns to regular size. My breath evens out where her shoulder meets my mouth. She cards her fingers through my hair like she’s counting something private.
“I chose you,” she says into the quiet. “Monsters and all. You can be the boogeyman. I’ll be what drags you out of closets before you startle the kids.”
I huff a laugh against her skin. It feels like she plugged me back into the house. “Deal.”
We lie there with the sheets a mess and the world far away. The heat kicks on and the vent clicks. Somewhere downstairs a door opens and closes softly because Tiernan is good at his job.
“Cayce,” she says, after the part where silence is comfortable and before it turns into sleep.
“Mm.”
