The first night they’d spent together, she’d sensed him unleashing a myriad of emotions. Those emotions hadn’t been love, but they had been valid just the same.
The second night, had it only been last night? He’d ceded more of his control. When he’d covered her in a bed of clover, he’d shed some of his defenses. When he’d led her upstairs and made love to her a second time, he’d done so thoroughly—selflessly. Almost as though he’d surrendered his soul in exchange for her body—for her unconditional acceptance.
Was that why he’d been upset when he awoke?
She released his hands and reached for the fasteners of his trousers, keeping her gaze pinned on his. A muscle along his jaw ticked, and he licked his lips.
“Bethany.” It wasn’t a warning. It wasn’t permission. It was an acknowledgment that he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him.
She drew down the flap and tugged at his shirttail. Her heart ought to be racing and yet she’d never felt so certain of anything.
Late afternoon sunshine filtered into the room from the open window. Up until that moment, she’d only caught glimpses of his member in the darkness.
He was hard already. She stared at it... at hiscock. She rolled the word around in her mind.
A part of his anatomy so very personal to him, vulnerable but also powerful. It provided him with pleasure but was susceptible to great pain. She’d seen his expression when he’d teetered on the edge of his climax. Torture played across his features moments before he released his seed.
She clasped the base, nestling her hand in the hair that curled there. It was a darker shade of brown than the rest of him. The skin on his shaft was peach and pink tones with purplish veins threading beneath the surface.
Heat pulsed where she held him, and a tiny pearl of liquid balanced on the tip.
She leaned forward and captured it with her tongue. Salty, warm.
Wicked.
“Bethany.” He had one hand in her hair, the other on her wrist. He wasn’t going to stop her, but he would make no demands. She would take care of him. She would allow him the release he needed today.
He made very few demands of the people around him—if any.
And twice already, he’d satisfied her in this manner. Her heart raced when she dipped her head forward and wrapped her mouth around it.
“Beth.” The groan that tore through him had her clenching her thighs together. Desire ached in her core but she ignored it. This was for him.
Salty drops of liquid. His seed.
She considered the taste and then slid him deeper into her mouth.
“Sweetheart.” His fingers were digging into her hair now, and she relished in the contrasting result of pleasure warring with pain. The battle between the two promised astonishing ecstasy. “You don’t have to—”
Bethany released him just long enough to make a shushing sound and then claimed him again.
This time, she slid her mouth along the side, sucking with just enough pressure to maintain the physical connection. She relaxed her hand where she gripped him and sustained the kiss all the way to the base.
His scent was musky and reminded her of their bed after making love. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils.
She didn’t feel bold or embarrassed in any way. This felt right. Satisfying in the most unexpected sense.
Pleasuring him felt like a ritual. And the ritual brought a greater connection than she’d known could be possible with another human being.
Chase groaned above her. Leaving one hand in her hair, he placed the other along her jaw—caressing her neck and cheek. The pulse in his wrist raced against her skin.
Bethany trailed her lips back to the tip and clasped them around him again. She sucked him in, reminded of the cigar.
Breathing through her nose, filling herself with his essence, she wantedmoreof him. She willingly gave, as she took him into her mouth, as she’d take him into her body.
The similarities of this act to their consummation spiked her own desire. Her confidence growing, she grazed the silky wand along the roof of her mouth toward the back of her throat. She slid it out and then in again, teasing him the way he’d teased her the night before. He had played with her entrance, the quivering flesh that beckoned him inside.
His hips moved with her now, his muscles flexing against her breasts and beneath her arms and hands.
