“I need to taste you,” he told me in a voice that sounded desperate with need.
Was he desperate for me? I didn’t know.
He moved away from where his mouth had been pressed against mine and trailed his lips down my neck to my chest.
I threaded my fingers through his hair. It was soft and silky, and I heard him groan as I tugged it, lifting my hips.
“Jesus, Chantel,” he muttered against my skin.
His teeth gently grazed my nipple as he pulled the lace cup away from my breast. When his lips surrounded my sensitive tip, he sucked it hard enough that there was a slight sting of pain to accompany the pleasure.
Stopping, I look down my body to the man who now has his hands burrowed under my sweater.
“Take this off,” he instructs me gruffly.
Putting aside the journal, I keep my eyes on him as I sit up and pull the sweater over my head.
“Bra, too,” he adds.
At this point, I can’t find one single reason to not do as he requests.
I’m so consumed with my own desire that I’m surprised when I can actuallyseethe moisture on my thighs. Undoing my bra, I slide it off, throwing it to the side.
“Lie back down, Gemma.” His voice floats across the small space between us.
I slowly move back to the position I was originally in. He picks up the journal and hands it back to me with lowered lids. I take it from him and suck in a deep breath when he lowers his head and flicks his tongue across my nipple.
“I believe we were right here.”
Moaning, I shut my eyes. I’m almost unable to continue, but I know if I keep reading he’ll continue reliving the words on the page. I know I’m not the woman he so obviously hungers for, buteven though I’m not who he wants, I find myself stupidly willing to be her substitute.
He cupped my breasts in his hands and tongued my nipple—first the right, and then the left.
It felt strange to me. His tongue was hot and wet. While it was unbelievably exciting, it also tickled a little bit. I could feel his breath against my sensitive skin as he breathed out every time he sucked on me.
Then he was on the move again. Those lips I was now coming to love made their way down the center of my body to my navel, where he dipped his tongue in and bit lovingly around the edges. At this stage, I dropped my hands from his hair. They were up by my head because, honestly, I couldn’t even think enough to hang on to him.
“Chantel?” he asked.
I tipped my head in his direction. I knew he was looking up at me. “Yes?”
“Touch yourself for me while I undress.”
I reached for my breasts and cupped them. “Like this?”
“Exactly like that,” he rasped.
He was not gone for long. I felt his hand slip under my panties as he dragged them down my legs. His body weight shifted as he pushed himself between my thighs, wedging his now-naked hips between my legs.
His hot skin singed mine, and I could feel his arms by my head as his fingers played with my hair. He kissed my mouth gently.
“You are the most flawless thing I have ever seen.”
I didn’t know how to answer him. I could have told him that he made me feel cherished, desired, or even wanted. Did any of that really compare to what he was telling me?
Instead, I leaned up and kissed his mouth. I traced his face, memorizing every dip, each subtle change in texture. As his lips parted above mine, I was struck with a soul-altering moment of truth.
I was his.
