Page 140 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I just don’t want you to forget me.” His hand cups my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “I’m the one you’re with, all right? So eyes on me.”

Something in my chest tightens. He sounds almost as vulnerable as I feel. Garrett is afraid I’ll look away and forget this moment and forget him.

Never.

I reach up, covering his hand with mine. “I won’t forget.”

“Please,” he whispers. “Don’t forget me.”

The first press is intense. I have to focus on breathing and consciously relaxing muscles that want to tense up and fight the intrusion. It’s uncomfortable and borders on painful.

“You’re so warm inside,” he breathes, voice shaking. “All soft and melting. It feels insanely good.”

The stretch is impossible, too much, my body rejecting it.

“Is it in?” I manage through gritted teeth.

“I’m halfway through.”

What the fuck? Only halfway?

“You’re wound too tightly, Wolf.” Garrett holds completely still, not pushing further. “Breathe. Just breathe through it.”

I force myself to take slow breaths and slowly, so slowly, the discomfort eases. My body adjusts and accepts.

Garrett pulls back slightly, then presses in again. He continues like that for a while, patient and careful. Each shallow thrust helps my body relax further. The burn fades and the stretch becomes bearable. It feels comfortable and almost good.

Then he shifts the angle slightly and—

“Fuck,” I grunt as the jolt from earlier hits again.

Garrett smiles against my collarbone, pleased. He does it again, hitting that same spot, and pleasure sparks white-hot up my spine. My hands fly to his hips, gripping hard enough that I’ll definitely leave bruises on that perfect skin.

His mouth finds my chest and his lips close around my nipple. “Can’t forget to give these some loving.”

My mind is blanking. I can’t think past the sensation of him inside me, his mouth on my skin.

“You’re taking my cock so well,” he murmurs against my chest.

He plunges in and out of me, finding a rhythm. I watch his face as he moves above me. The concentration written there. His eyes are closed, lips parted around gasping breaths, golden hair falling forward across his forehead.

Garrett’s beautiful.

He’s completely lost in sensation. I can’t stop watching him. The slight furrow between his brows when he adjusts the angle, the way his mouth drops open when he finds the perfect rhythm.

I’m the one making him look like this, I remind myself.

I like that he’s taking his pleasure from my body.

He’s making sounds now. Quiet gasps and moans that he’s not bothering to hold back. Each one sends heat through me.

And I like this.

I actually like this.

Every time he thrusts deep, I feel that pleasure spark through me again. It’s almost like I’m coming a little bit with each movement.