“Yeah?” I ask, dragging my tongue over his bottom lip, catching it between my teeth. God, I’m so embarrassingly wet for him, I might combust if he doesn’t go faster. “What else have you missed?”
The question gives away more than I mean to, revealing the cracks I rarely show. Why would he miss this—my skinandmy body—when he’s undoubtedly been with so many after me? Does he even remember us together? The way we fit from our very first time to the many breathless nights after?
I do. But that’s because I’ve only been with two people after him—a forgettable one-night stand and Micah. And there’s no need to rehash how disappointing both of those encounters were.
But I can’t really blame those other men, either.
The truth is, no one has been able to get me out of my head. Not because they weren’t trying, but because it takes a miracle and a thousand wishes to get me relaxed enough, wet enough, and lost enough to make me reach that peak, to actually make me come.
That, or the skilled hands and mouth of the man currently staring down at me like he wants to devour me whole. Patton’s not just my Achilles heel, but he’s my magic bullet, too.
“Your sounds,” he answers, as the tip of his finger enters me, testing and prodding, deliberately slow. He’s hovering over me on his forearm, staring down at me the way a lion would his prey. “From your loud moans to your delicate whimpers when I’m working this clit.”
He flicks said clit to prove his point, his touch sending ripples and currents over my flesh, before pressing his finger fully inside me. The intrusion makes me buck against him, my body arching, my nipples grazing against the inside of my dress, begging to be touched and tweaked.
“Feel the way your pussy swallows my fingers, baby? It’s like it’s been waiting for me.” He adds another finger, stretching me so deliciously, I mewl. “Feel the way you’re clenching around me, pulling me deeper? Like you want me buried so deep inside you, I’ll never find my way out.”
He has no idea how deep he’s already buried inside me.
The dim light coming through the windows casts shadows across his handsome face and the set of his jaw. It doesn’t take much light to see how I’m affecting him, too, how enraptured he is with giving me pleasure.
My mouth goes slack when his fingers curl inside me, hitting that spot only he has ever been able to find, making my vision blur. I clutch his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as my hips rise and pleasure shoots through me like bolts of lightning.
“Patton,” I gasp, slamming my eyes shut. “Oh, god!”
He makes little circles with the tips of his fingers inside me, his thumb finding my clit with practiced ease. I throw my head back, feeling my body tighten and a familiar flush rise over my skin.
“Look at me, Nisha,” Patton commands, continuing to ease his fingers in and out of me, making my body do his bidding. “Let me see your eyes when I make you come.”
I force my eyes open, meeting his intense gaze, so hungry and dark. The need between us crackles as he continues his assault, stroking me with expertise.
My breath hitches as my walls flutter around his fingers. “Patton!”
The corner of his lip curls, a smug smile blooming on his face, before he leans down to kiss me roughly. “That’s it, baby,” he whispers against my mouth. “Say my name. It’s the only one you’ll say from now on.”
And with a final curl of his finger and a perfect circle of his thumb on my clit, I detonate like a collapsing star, pulling everything inward before shattering impossibly.
My head swims with lust and the remnants of the several drinks I consumed today. I’m not drunk though, I never was, though I can’t deny that the alcohol gave me the courage to change the outcome of how this night might have ended—with me alone in my bed.
I’m still catching my breath, feeling my heart pound against my ribs, when Patton pulls his hand out from between my thighs and brings it to his mouth. Watching me, he sinfully licks each finger clean, like every drop of my arousal is quenching his thirst.
“And most of all, I missed this,” he says, dragging his tongue over his lips.
My cheeks catch fire. “The taste of me?”
“Yes—fuck, yes—but not just that. I missed seeing you in the aftermath. The way you radiate in your freshly-fucked glow.”
I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, suppressing my smile and blush. “Technically, I haven’t been fucked yet.”
His mouth hovers over the shell of my ear. “Then,technically, we should change that.”
My brow rises as I use my feet to maneuver his jeans down his body, taking his boxers with them. “Well, what are you waiting for, Pierce? A written invitation?”
How the fuck can I be wet again already?
But again, why am I even surprised, when I still have explicit memories of him giving me at least ten orgasms one night.
Chuckling, he nips my jaw before lining his erection at my entrance. But then his eyes come back to mine, and a flash of pain makes his smile falter. The pain we’d both stored away, hoping the hands of time would have softened its edges. And while that pain isn’t as sharp as it once was, it’s here now, raw and real, dancing between us.
