“I can bench press two-eighty as a warm-up, sweetheart, don’t insult me.” He says with a wicked laugh. “Now get over here and sit on my face.”
I can feel the color spread across my cheeks at his words, but I also know I’m already soaked, and he’s barely touched me.
He does this to me. He makes me feel brave and safe and daring, all with just a sly look or a subtle tip of his chin. He makes me want to try, and he makes me want to trust him—and maybe trust myself for the first time in a long time.
I shimmy out of my underwear before kneeling on the bed and swinging my knee over, mounting Liam like a motorcycle.
“That’s perfect, sweetheart,” he says from beneath the spread of my legs, his eyes flicking to the headboard. “Now, hold on.”
I do as I’m told, desperate to have his mouth on me again. I lean forward to grip the headboard and settle my ass back, and I’m rewarded with his hot mouth on my slick center. His tongue moves unhurriedly from my entrance to my clit and back down again. I am so close, just from a few passes, that I have to grip the headboard, knuckles white, and breathe to keep from instantly orgasming.
He licks long and slow and exquisite. And when he slides in a finger, then two, my hips rock against his hand like someone else is pulling the strings, and yet somehow, I’m wildly in control of every sensation.
His long fingers arch inside, and his mouth sucks and flicks me in a way that is so perfect, it’s like he’s done it a million times. He knows exactly how to strum me.
I’m so wet that when he slips a third finger in, I hardly notice until I feel the delightful stretch. “Oh, fuck, yes.”
He huffs out a grunt, vibrating against my heat-slicked core, before thrusting deeper. He curls his fingers, twisting his wrist like he’s unlocking a key, and in so many ways, he is.
He’s teasing and worshiping and stretching me. When I realize he’s preparing my body to take him, I lose it.
“Liam!” I cry out as my orgasm crashes around me. His grip on my hip tightens, and he holds me to his mouth, drawing my orgasm out until my legs begin to shake.
I climb off of him, trying to catch my breath, and he pulls my mouth to his. I can taste myself on his lips, and I want more. My hand dips below the waistband of his boxers to pull out his length.
“I’m ready,” I say, giving him a long, firm stroke. “I want you inside me.”
I take the foil package and roll the condom on. His cock is almost obscene.
“You’re in control, sweetheart,” he says, guiding me back onto his lap. “Take as much or as little as you want. It’s already perfect.”
Nothing about him is little.
I slot his head at my entrance, and my body is thrumming with desire, and my heart is pounding so fast I’m sure he can hear it.
“That’s it, honey, nice and slow,” he praises as I sink inch by inch over his cock. The sweet sting of the stretch causes heat to bloom in my stomach. I know this will be devastating, and I want every second of it.
His hands cup under my ass. He’s letting me control the pace and depth, but he’s bearing all my weight.
“Touch yourself,” he says, and my hand finds my clit like a reflex.
It’s disorienting in the best way—how he takes charge while still making me feel completely in control. He knows what he wants, but my pleasure is paramount. I press quick, deliberate circles on the bundle of nerves, and as wet as I thought I was, I’m able to sink a little lower, take more of him, with this new stimulation.
“That’s it, sweetheart, look how well you’re taking me.”
His praise does something molten to my insides, and I pick up my pace. We begin to climb together, and he alternates between little swears and admiration. Sweat glistens on my forehead, and my thighs burn, even though Liam is doing most of the work. He rocks into me. And everything about this is ruinous. His body moving in mine, the stretch of him, the dig of his fingers into the flesh of my hip. It’s pure pleasure, the kind you crave again the moment it ends. And I don’t want it to.
“Come for me, sweetheart.”
And I do. Over and over. I cry out, and every nerve ending is sparking like a downed live wire. There is no way this can be classified as a single orgasm. Tears prick the corners of my eyes, not from pain or discomfort, but from pleasure and deep, satisfying contentment. Like Liam somehow shattered me and made me whole at the same time. My pleasure crashes over me again in waves, and soon, Liam is swearing and bucking his hips underneath me, before shuddering inside me.
“Fuck, Soph…Fuck…” he grits out, his fingers dig into my hips, gripping me to him as his desperation rolls through every ragged exhale.
I collapse against his chest, and he gathers me in his arms, our bodies sticky with sweat.
And this is exactly how I want to be undone.
Chapter 15
