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Mine.
The possessiveness that surges through me is primal and urgent. I want to mark her. Claim her. Make her forget any man who came before me.
“You have no idea how beautiful you look right now,” I tell her, my voice dropping to that register that makes her thighs tremble. “Spread open for me. Waiting.”
Her fingers twist in the sheets, knuckles white with restraint.
I lower myself between her thighs, maintaining eye contact as I press a kiss to the inside of her knee. Her breath hitches, a small, needy sound escaping her lips.
“Remember,” I murmur against her skin, “stay still.”
I trail kisses up her inner thigh, taking my time, savoring the way her muscles quiver beneath my lips. When I reach the apex, I pause and breathe her in, letting my breath ghost her sensitive flesh.
“Please,” she whispers, hips shifting slightly.
I press a firm hand to her stomach, pinning her in place. “What did I say about staying still?”
She bites her lip, eyes wide. “Sorry, sir.”
“Better.” I reward her with a slow, deliberate lick through her folds.
Fucking hell. Whitley tastes so sweet and so fucking perfect that I have to hold myself back from devouring her. Instead, I set a torturous pace, broad strokes of my tongue alternating with flicks against her clit.
Her thighs tremble with the effort to remain still, soft whimpers escaping her throat. I glance up to find her watching me, eyes glazed with pleasure, bottom lip caught between her teeth.
“God, Beau.” She gasps when I circle her entrance with my tongue.
I dip inside, feeling her clench around me. She’s fighting to stay still, her entire body vibrating with the effort not to move. It’s the most beautiful kind of torture I’ve ever seen.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” I rasp against her. “And I’ve imagined this a lot, Red.”
Her eyes widen at the confession, something vulnerable flashing across her face before pleasure overtakes it again. I focus my attention on her clit, circling it with firm strokes before sucking it between my lips.
“Oh god,” she cries out, hands flying to my hair.
I pull back immediately, leaving her panting and desperate.
“Having trouble following directions?”
She whimpers, reluctantly returning her hands to the sheets. “I’m sorry. Please don’t stop.”
“Since you asked so nicely…” I lower my head again, but this time I grip her thighs, holding her open for me.
I work her with my mouth, relentless now, adding a finger and sliding it into her tight heat. She’s so wet, so ready, taking me easily as I curl against that spot inside her that makes her gasp.
“You’re close,” I say. “I can feel it.”
I add a second finger, stretching her. Her inner walls clench around me, and I know she’s right on the edge.
“Not yet,” I command, slowing my pace. “You don’t come until I say so.”
A frustrated sob escapes her throat, and my cock throbs painfully in response.
The sight of her desperate and trembling, following my commands even as pleasure threatens to overwhelm her, breaks something in me. Her eyes are pleading, lips parted on shallow breaths, her entire body strung tight.
“Look at me.” When her gaze locks with mine, I find complete surrender. “Now you can come. Show me how good it feels.”
Her release hits instantly. She shatters, back arching off the bed, a broken cry tearing from her throat as waves of pleasure crash through her. I don’t stop, working her through it, watching in awe as she comes apart for me.
