“Shh.” His lips trail down my jaw, my throat, my collarbone. “Let me take care of you.”
His invisible hands find my breasts, cupping them, thumbs circling my nipples until they’re hard as pebbles and aching. I arch into the torturous touch, moaning at the strangeness of it, this pleasure without source, sensation without sight. My brain keeps trying to reconcile what I’m feeling with what I’m seeing (or failing to see), and somehow, that makes itmoreintense, every nerve ending heightened, every touch magnified.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmurs against my skin, his mouth moving lower. “Flying around the city, pretending to be a hero, and all I could think about was you. The sounds you make. The way you taste. You, you, you, my darlin’.”
His hands slide down my stomach, fingers hooking in the waistband of my knickers, and then he’s pulling them down my legs, and I’m bare to him. He moves further down, underneaththe sheets now, and that’s when I can finally see him, or at least his outline.
His strong fingers grip my thighs, spreading them, the heat from his breath making me shiver.
The first stroke of his tongue makes me cry out.
It’s like I have my eyes closed when I don’t, like I’m blindfolded and not at the same time. That’s what makes it so overwhelming, the disconnect between sight and sensation, the way pleasure seems to bloom from nothing at all. I stare at the empty space between my spread thighs, the way half the sheet seems to hover in the air, and Ifeelhim there. His tongue circling my clit, his fingers sliding inside me, his stubble scraping my sensitive skin.
Too much. It’s too damn much.
“Oh God…” My hands fly out, searching for something to hold onto, but I find nothing but sheets. “Ohfuck?—”
He groans against me, the vibration shooting sparks up my spine, and then he’s devouring me in earnest, licking, sucking, fucking me with his fingers while his tongue works my clit with devastating precision. I’m writhing on the bed, making sounds I don’t recognize, and I can’t watch it happen, can only feel it, the pleasure building and building with nowhere to go but up.
“Please—” I’m not even sure what I’m begging for, but it’s something. “Please, I need?—”
He pulls back. Just enough to speak, his breath hot against my soaked skin. “What do you need?”
Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.
“You. I need to see you. Please, I?—”
The air shimmers.
And then, he’s there, between my thighs, his blue eyes dark with want, his mouth wet and swollen. He’s fully dressed in his Vanguard suit, and there’s something obscene about that, abouthim being clothed in his uniform, as the superhero, while I’m spread naked before him.
“Better?” he asks roughly, my wetness glistening on his beard.
What a fucking sight.
I nod, feeling breathless, speechless, even.
He smiles—that dangerous, wolfish smile I’ve come to love—and dips his head back down.
Watching him is almost worse than not; the way his tongue circles my clit, watching as his fingers disappear inside me, the way his eyes flutter closed like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted. I thread my fingers through his silky soft hair, anchoring myself to something real, something solid.
“You taste incredible.” He punctuates the words with a hard suck that makes me keen. “Could eat this pussy for days.”
“Nate…”
“That’s the one.” Another devastating lick. “That’s what I want to hear. Say it again.”
“Nate—”
The orgasm crashes into me without warning. One moment, I’m climbing, and the next, I’m shattering, my back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure tears through me. I’m dimly aware I’m screaming his name, that my thighs are clamped around his head as if I’m trying to squeeze the life out of him, that my fingers are yanking his hair hard enough to hurt anyone else but him.
He works me through it, every tremor, every aftershock, his mouth never stopping until I’m boneless and gasping and shoving weakly at his shoulders because it’s too much. I can’t…
He pulls back, licking his lips, and the sight of him—flushed and hungry and so fucking pleased with himself—makes my spent body clench all over again.
“I’m not done with you,” he says, rising over me like a god.
“I don’t doubt it,” I manage to say, my heart filling my throat.
