“Touch yourself,” he repeats.
My brain has sex fog clouding it, but I manage to think—how the holy hell am I supposed to do that?I can’t even formulate a sentence.
“Blair,” he growls when I don’t move. “I’ve got you. You’re not going to fall.”
I pull my hand from his back and rub my clit as he slowly eases in and out of me.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers.
This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever done. I suck air and my entire body quivers.
“Come for me, darlin’. Come for me and let me hear you.”
One part of me wonders about Hands, but I figure he probably has a soundproof room given that I wouldn’t be surprised if Devlin’s other lovers have done quite a bit of screaming over the years.
For once the thought of them doesn’t bother me.
“I want to hear you.”
It’s his husky voice, our slick bodies, his giant cock, and the fact that I’m touching myself in front of him—it’s all of it that makes me cry his name as I’m shattered apart in his arms.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs as he kisses me back to life.
“Come for me, Devlin,” I say between kisses.
“I want to come only for you.” It sounds like a sacred confession, like he’s admitting his deepest feelings, and when he does come, when he plunges into me so hard and fast that I can barely breathe, it feels like we’re beyond this world and touching the source of all life.
He finishes and collapses on me, dropping his face to my shoulder. I hug him close, and he holds me pinned to the wall for a few seconds before straightening and walking me to the bed, where he gently lowers me onto the mattress.
Without a word he grabs a towel and cleans me up, taking his time on all my sensitive parts. Then he pulls back the covers and we get under. He snuggles close, pulling my back against his chest and kissing the spot behind my ear.
“Next time”—he nips my neck—“I’m going to taste every part of you.”
“I’ll let you,” I confess.
We fall asleep. When we wake up it’s a few hours later. Even though it’s still dark outside, Devlin keeps his promise, feasting on me until I’m ripped apart all over again.
And I return the favor.
30
The next morning Devlin makes pancakes and we eat them in bed.
“I didn’t know you could cook,” I marvel as he enters the room, boxers low on his hips, hair messy, which fills my brain with lusty thoughts.
He grins, his teeth and eyes flashing. “You can’t be a bachelor for too long and not know how to cook. Hands can’t be expected to do everything around here.”
It’s impossible not to laugh as he settles a tray over my hips and hand feeds me strawberries dipped in whipped cream. It’s delicious.
The whole morning is lazy. My mom calls to make sure that I’m okay. You know, since we left without telling anyone, and I assure her that I am with Devlin, safe.
And I am.
We’re in no rush to leave each other. It feels like I’ve been starved of him and now I’ve been served a Devlin buffet, and all I want to do is feast.
It’s after breakfast that he broaches all the subjects.
“What about Mr. Grayson?” he asks, studying my hand before rubbing his own over it.
