He wanted to know all of her. Every secret she kept hidden under that soft exterior. The woman beneath the caretaker, the dreamer beneath the baker, the hunger beneath the patience.
“Cal.” His name came out broken. “Please.”
“Please, what?” He kissed down her stomach, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her shorts. “Tell me exactly what you want. I want to hear you say it.”
Her cheeks flushed deeper, but she didn’t look away. “More. Everything. I need—” She lifted her hips, helping him slide the shorts down her legs. “I need you to touch me. Taste me. Make me stop thinking.”
She was bare beneath the shorts. Completely bare and open and trusting him with her vulnerability, and Cal had to close his eyes for a moment to keep from losing control entirely.
She was wet. Glistening in the moonlight, her arousal evident even before he touched her. The sight of her spread open for him, waiting, wanting—it was almost enough to undo him.
Not the claiming—not yet. But he could give her this.
He positioned himself between her thighs, pressing kisses along the soft skin of her inner leg. She trembled beneath him, her fingers twisting in the sheets. He could smell her arousal now—musky and sweet—and his mouth watered.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
Her head lifted. Hazel eyes met his, dark with desire and trust—maybe, or the beginnings of love.
He held her gaze as he lowered his mouth to her center.
The first taste of her undid him. Salt and sweetness and pure Dahlia. She cried out, her hips bucking, and he pinned her down with one hand splayed across her stomach while he worked her with his tongue.
He started slow, learning her. Long, flat strokes of his tongue from her entrance to her clit, teasing, savoring. She whimpered above him, her thighs trembling against his shoulders. When he circled her clit with the tip of his tongue—light, barely there—she nearly levitated off the bed.
“More,” she begged. “Please, Cal, I need?—”
He gave her more. Sucked her clit into his mouth while sliding one finger inside her, and she clenched around him immediately, slick and hot and perfect. He added a second finger, curling them to find the spot that made her back arch clean off the mattress.
“Right there—” Her voice cracked. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop?—”
He didn’t stop. He fucked her with his fingers while his tongue worked her clit in relentless circles, building her higher and higher. Her hands flew to his hair, gripping hard enough to sting, holding him exactly where she needed him. She was vocal in her pleasure—telling himyesandthereandoh god, yesuntil the words dissolved into broken moans.
Cal loved every sound she made. Loved that she wasn’t quiet about what she wanted, wasn’t shy about taking pleasure. He doubled down, sucking harder, fucking her faster with his fingers, and felt her inner walls start to flutter around him.
“I’m gonna—Cal, I’m?—”
She broke apart with a cry—not shouted but whispered, reverent. Her body pulsed around his fingers, her thighs clamping against his head, and he worked her through every wave of it until she was boneless and gasping.
Cal gentled his touch as she came down, pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs, her hip bones, the soft curve of her belly. She was still trembling when he crawled up her body, positioning his hips between her thighs.
The hard length of him pressed against her slick heat, and they both groaned at the contact. He rocked against her slowly, coating himself in her arousal, and her hips lifted to meet each thrust.
“That was—” She laughed breathlessly, still dazed. “I can’t feel my legs.”
“We’re not done.” He kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips. “Not even close.”
She moaned into his mouth, her tongue chasing the flavor. Her hands found his belt, working the buckle with trembling fingers, and Cal’s patience finally snapped.
“Let me.”She pushed him onto his back, and Cal went willingly, watching her through half-lidded eyes as she stripped him of his remaining clothes.
His jeans hit the floor. His boxer briefs followed. And then he was naked beneath her, his cock hard and aching and straining toward her.
Dahlia’s eyes widened slightly as she took him in. “You’re...”
“Is that going to be a problem?”
She wrapped her hand around him, and his hips jerked involuntarily. Her grip was perfect—firm but not too tight—and when she stroked him from root to tip, he saw stars.
