The Love Coupon (Stubborn Hearts 2)

She pulled back and words jammed in her throat, making her cough. Tom’s chest heaved, a rivulet of sweat tricked down his face and neck. He was slumped into the cushion but coiled forward, so on-edge it came off him in waves of tension she could almost smell like sulfur from a sub-active volcano.

All that and the hand that held hers was almost slack.

“Too much?”

He brought their hands up, kissed the back of hers. “I didn’t think you’d do that. So deep.”

“I can take everything you can give me.”

He blinked. “Don’t want to make you sorry you said that.”

Seeing him slowly coming undone made her feel invincible. “You couldn’t.” She’d show him stars and weightlessness before she finished with him.

This time when she took him down, she flattened her tongue as she sheathed her teeth. His hand went to the back of her head and held her there. This was the part where panic might come if the man was too greedy, if his taste was too strong or the mood shifted to mindlessly brutal, if she didn’t trust. But this was Tom, and no matter how much he let go, he wouldn’t deliberately hurt her. He didn’t know how.

Tears did form in her eyes, her hair stuck to her face, her jaw ached, her throat burned and she drooled over her hand and onto her lap as he took control, pulled back and pushed in, did it again. There was almost as much joy in giving over to him as there was in bringing him to the point where he had no choice but to get selfish and take, even as she choked and her ears rang.

He came with a raw sob, distress melded to pleasure, shocking in its harshness. She swallowed and swallowed and the contact with his hand broke as he pulled out and she was hoisted off her knees and into his lap.

If giving him head didn’t smother her, breathing through his bear hug, her face smooshed into his neck might. It took long moments before he stopped trembling and his grip on her loosened. He lifted her chin, his eyes wild, scouring over her, and used the front side of his shirt to wipe her face tenderly.

“Are you okay?” They said it together, but her throat was so beaten her voice came out like a growl.

“Oh, dear God, Flick.”

She coughed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re incredible.” He rested his forehead on hers. “I’m not sure if I’ll walk again. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I will, with appropriate worship, as soon as I recover.” She coughed, cleared her throat, and he said, “I’ve recovered,” and deposited her on the sectional. In minutes, she had warm water with lemon and honey in her hand and Tom’s arm around her.

“I was rough with you.”

“The whole deep-throating thing isn’t necessarily gentle. It comes with gagging, ramming, choking. Totally worth it to see the effect on you.” He closed one eye, screwed up one side of his face and his cheeks colored. “Spectacular. Got me so hot.”

Got her kissed so passionately her temperature leapfrogged cooldown and went straight to boiling point. It also got her a piggyback ride to Tom’s bedroom, a chance to whisper in his ear as they ducked under the doorway.

“You have a sensational ass, Tom O’Connell.”

She didn’t see his blush, but his step faltered. “You’re a rodeo, Flick Dalgetty. Always trying to throw me off.”

At least he didn’t call her a clown. “Round two. Ding, ding.”

He sat on the bed to release her. “Any requests?”

Pulling him back into her lap and looking at his upside-down face, she said, “Make me beg for mercy.”

“I didn’t see you showing me any mercy.”

“Exactly.”

They tried to kiss that way, and when it wasn’t enough Tom flipped over and commenced Operation Beg for Mercy. That had to be it because he was relentless, going after all her most sensitive spots, treating her body like a playground to investigate, to master. He returned favors she’d not thought to ask for, in a way that signaled his own enjoyment and was murmured into her skin in half-intelligible groans and hums.

He took his time and Flick got lost in his attention to detail. The featherlight kisses on her eyelids, the just-right pressure of his lips sucking on her nipple, combined with the good kind of uneasy stroking of her clit.

“Love your body, Flick. Love what it does to mine.”