“Oh shit. What are you talking about?”
“Your pleasure.”
Never been so bold in my life, but he’s panting harder now, his eyes darkening, obviously liking me taking control, and god, it’s hot.
“Do you know you’re beautiful?” I whisper as I kiss my way across his pecs, over the swirling colors of his tattoos. “In every way.”
“No, I’m not—God!” He gasps as I graze his small nipples with my teeth and lick a path down his stomach, my breath washing over the wet head of his cock. “Yes…”
I blow softly, and he shudders. Precum leaks steadily from the small slit.
“You’re a survivor, a fighter.” I blow again, watch him strain, his back arching. “You’re kind and compassionate. You’re the nicest person I know. You deserve all the pleasure in the world.”
He snorts, the muscles in his chest jumping. “I’m… I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. And I’ll hear you say it, or I won’t let you come.” I wink at him and scoot back until I’m off him, kneeling between his legs.
“You serious?”
“Yep.”
“Meg…”
“You’re gorgeous. Inside and out.” My heart’s full to bursting, because it is true, and he just won’t see it. “Say, I deserve to come.”
“That’s,” he gasps when I give his cock an experimental lick, “that’s…”
No idea what he was about to say, because I take him in my mouth and he never finishes his sentence. The salty-sweetness of him is surprising, like the first time I tasted him, and just as exciting.
“Oh fuck…” He shakes, and his hips roll. The taste in my mouth intensifies. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”
I pull back, release him from my mouth. “Not until you say you deserve it.”
He blinks at me, his eyes dazed, his jaw clenched. “I…”
I almost take pity on him. He’s been through a lot, and now that he’s ready to let go, I’m placing conditions.
But I read somewhere that you have to say something, over and over again, if you want to believe it. And I want him to believe it.
“Say it, Rafe.” I give his cock one long lick that has him writhing. “Say, I deserve pleasure. I deserve to be happy.”
“Fuck. Fuck.” His abs are clenched so hard you can count them. “Meg.”
“Say it.”
“I deserve it,” he blurts out, his head falling back on the pillows. “I deserve to come. To be happy.”
I grin, then take him back in my mouth, swallow him to the root, and he howls as he comes in long shuddering spasms, pouring down my throat. Salty,
bitter, sweet. Too much, and I pull back, work him with my hand, watch the ropes of cum land on his heaving chest. His legs are shaking, his hips rocking, his neck bared, tendons standing out.
When he’s done, when the tremors ease and he lies panting, muscles jumping and twitching in his limbs, I curl down beside him and hug him close.
Chapter Twenty
Rafe
I still can’t fathom what happened. I feel as if I’ve been through a wringer—a mind-blowing orgasmic wringer, to be precise. My body is heavy and sated, wracked by the occasional aftershock. My soul aches, as if it’s been shredded and glued together again.