“Bedroom,” I manage to demand.
He carries me down the hall without breaking contact, kicks the door open, and lowers me onto the mattress. I reach for the hem of his shirt and yank it over his head before running my palms across the planes of his chest. He’s all muscle and heat, and when he settles his weight between my thighs, I can feel exactly how much he wants this.
He strips my sweater off in one fluid motion and tosses it aside, then reaches behind me to unhook my bra. His mouth finds my breast, and I cry out as he draws my nipple between his lips, teasing it with his tongue until I’m writhing beneath him. He lavishes the same attention on the other side, sucking and nipping until both peaks are swollen and aching.
“I want to taste you,” he murmurs against my skin before he presses a kiss to my stomach and then heads lower. “I’ve been thinking about it since the woods. Wondering what sounds you’d make when I finally got my mouth on you.”
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my pants and drags them down my legs along with my underwear. I’m completely bare underneath him now, and instead of feeling vulnerable, I feel powerful. The way he looks at me—like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes something warm bloom in my chest.
He spreads my thighs and settles between them, and the first stroke of his tongue pulls a moan from somewhere deep inside me. He licks me slowly at first, exploring every fold and ridge like he’s memorizing the terrain. When he finds my clit and circles it with the tip of his tongue, my hips buck off the bed.
“Connor.” His name comes out strangled. “Oh God, don’t stop.”
He hums against me, and the vibration sends shockwaves through my entire body. One hand slides up my inner thigh, and I feel his fingers trace my entrance, teasing but not entering. I’m dripping for him, so wet I can hear it when he finally pushes two fingers inside.
“You’re soaking.” His voice is thick with want as he pumps his fingers in and out. “So ready for me. I could do this all night.”
His tongue works my clit in tight, relentless circles while his fingers thrust deeper and harder. The dual sensation is overwhelming, and I fist my hands in the sheets and bite my lip to keep from screaming as the pressure builds and builds.
“Let go,” he commands against my flesh. “I want to feel you come on my tongue.”
At his command, the orgasm tears through me like a wildfire, and I cry out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. He doesn’t stop, just gentles his movements and works me through every last tremor until I’m gasping for breath.
He crawls up my body and kisses me deeply. I can taste myself on his lips, and something about that makes the heat roar back to life between my legs. I reach down and palm his cock through his jeans, feeling him twitch and groan against my mouth.
“I need you inside me,” I tell him as I fumble with his belt and shove the denim down his hips. He kicks off the rest of his clothes and positions himself at my entrance with the thick head of his cock pressing against my slick folds.
“Turn over.”
The command in his voice sends a fresh wave of arousal flooding through me. I roll onto my stomach, and he grabs my hips to tilt them up until I’m on my hands and knees. One hand traces down my spine while the other guides him to where I need him most.
He pushes inside with one long stroke, and I bury my face in the pillow to muffle my scream.
He feels even bigger from this angle, stretching me almost to the point of pain. But it’s the good kind of pain, the kind thatmakes every nerve ending sing. He gives me a moment to adjust as his fingers dig into my hips as he fights for control, and then he pulls back and thrusts forward again.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel incredible. So tight. So fucking perfect.”
I push back to meet each thrust, chasing the friction I need. He sets a punishing rhythm that has the headboard slamming against the wall with every stroke. One hand snakes around my hip and finds my clit, rubbing in tight circles that make my vision blur.
“Harder,” I beg. “Please, Connor. I need more.”
He gives me exactly what I ask for, slamming into me so hard I can barely hold myself up. His fingers move faster on my clit, and I feel myself hurtling toward the edge again. The pressure coils tighter and tighter in my core until I can barely breathe.
“Come for me,” he demands. “I want to feel you squeeze my cock when you fall apart.”
I shatter. My whole body convulses around him, and my inner walls clench so tight he groans and loses his rhythm. Three more ragged thrusts and he follows me over, spilling deep inside me with a sound that’s almost a howl. His hips jerk against mine as he empties himself completely, and then we both collapse onto the mattress in a tangle of sweaty limbs.
He pulls me against his chest and presses a kiss to the top of my head. The mate bond thrums between us, satisfied and warm.
I should feel content. I should feel safe.
Instead, all I feel is panic.
I lie awake long after Connor’s breathing evens out, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of what just happened. What I let happen. His arm is draped across my waist, and his body is warm against mine, and I should feel safe. I should feel content.
I don’t.
At some point, exhaustion wins out over anxiety, and I drift into a restless sleep.
