Page 62 of Her Devoted HERO

Kiss after kiss, caress after caress, and then she found herself lying on the bed without her jeans, looking at him wearing just her panties. Her plain white cotton panties.

“No thong.”

“These are now my favorite type of panties,” he whispered.

His fingers traced the elastic of her waistband, back and forth, shooting tingles through her body. Then he slid his hand underneath the cotton, and she held her breath. His eyes met hers.

“Breathe Baby.” One finger found her wet flesh, and she gasped for air.

His eyes glittered with passion and tenderness as he coaxed a response that had been waiting just for him. Just him. He pressed and swirled and she arched against the heat of his hand.

Was that her making those sounds?

Then all thought flew out of her head as her release exploded.

He got off the bed and stripped. Her eyes widened as she saw him naked for the first time, his body was a work of art. But she saw scars. Before she had a chance to fully comprehend what those meant, he had grabbed a condom from his duffel and whisked her panties off her body.

“Are you okay with this,” he asked.

Where was her resounding ‘yes?’ She could only give a small nod. But he understood, his fingers trailed down her cheek.

“We’ll go slow. Snail’s pace slow.” Then his fingers continued a path to her breasts.

“Fuck slow,” she said finding her words. “I need you now.”

He grinned. “There’s my girl.”

She pushed up on her elbows and parted her legs, anxious to start. He cocked an eyebrow, and cupped her breast, his thumb rasping against her nipple. She gasped. He bent down and sucked the other one, and she moaned. Soon he had her writhing on the bed. Thank God, his room was far from the others, was her last coherent thought as he slid down her body between her thighs.

He wasn’t.

He couldn’t.

His thumbs touched and caressed and parted her needy flesh. Then his tongue was there, and she cried out his name as she found rapture.

Soon she was locked in his arms, her face smashed against his chest. Her hand moved to his cock and found him sheathed.

“Please, Dex.” She moved her leg so that it circled his waist.

“Slow, Baby,” he admonished.

“Now,” she said as she guided him to her. “Now, now, now.”

He thrust deep. She winced.

“Goddammit, Kenna.”

“I’m good.” She clutched him with both legs when he would have pulled away. “It’s been awhile,” she reminded him.

He remained still, and she absorbed the fullness, the closeness, the intimacy. She kissed the underside of his jaw and surged against him.

She squeezed, then squeezed again. He groaned.

Gently he moved. It felt good.

“Again,” she pleaded.

He did, he kept moving, and soon they were locked in a rhythm that took her breath away. It was perfect. Every time she needed something, he gave it to her. She stared up at him, hoping that she was providing even half as much in return.