Claim My Baby (Crescent Cove 2)

He stepped inside but not too far, lingering near the door. “Do you want me to join you? Or should I just,” his voice dipped, “watch?”

16

Sage

I rose out of the water just enough that my breasts skimmed the surface. My nipples might as well have been connected to his voice. “Join me.”

He undid his tie, looping it over his head. His shirt was next, the fabric peeling away to reveal golden skin swirled with more of that dark ink that covered his forearms and muscles that rippled in the low light. He undid his belt slowly, seducing me with his movements as much as with his steady focus on me. I watched him avidly as he dropped his pants and boxers, shedding them along with his socks and shoes. He allowed me to look my fill, his already long, thick cock seeming to grow even more under my gaze. I couldn’t look away. He was so freaking hot, and not having him for even a few days had felt like an eternity.

“You still owe me that Valentine’s Day orgasm.” I trailed my hand through the water, reaching up to cup my breast. The move felt foreign, awkward, but his inward breath made it worth it.

“I always repay my debts. With interest.”

Hesitantly, my thumb circled my stiff nipple. I didn’t know what I was doing, and it was probably painfully obvious how little I knew about my own body.

He’d already taught me so much. God willing, he’d teach me more.

He stopped beside the tub and undid the clip in my hair, setting it free. Slowly, he worked through the tangles, his touch soothing me as it always did. I turned my cheek against his thigh and his cock was right there, so stiff and proud. I cupped it and tentatively swept my tongue around the tip, never letting up the pressure on my nipple. It was a poor substitute for stroking my clit, which was where I really needed attention, but I could tell from the heat in Oliver’s eyes he liked what I was doing.

“Keep going,” he urged, and I wasn’t sure if he meant my attentions on his shaft or my hand on my body. Assuming both, I shifted to the other breast, squeezing harder as I took the domed head between my lips, sucking lightly. He cursed and fisted a hand in my hair, hauling back my head. Breaking the connection between my mouth and his erection. “Touch your pussy.”

The word made me tremble, as it always did when he talked dirty. I was still a virgin in so many ways. Still so uneasy when it came to exploring my sexuality. But I wanted to learn.

I slipped my hand lower, pausing for a moment over my belly. Our gazes locked. So many things unsaid. I didn’t know if I’d imagined the way his pupils blew wider before I continued on, my hand disappearing beneath the surface of the water. I ran my fingers over my mound and the neatly trimmed strip of curls, then slid down over my swollen, slippery lips. The instant my thumb skimmed my swollen clit, I gasped, and he drew my head back farther, his focus divided between my arm in the water and my face.

“Can’t see,” he muttered. “Show me everything you’re doing on your face. Don’t hide from me.”

Did he have any idea what he was asking of me? The intimacy this required? It wasn’t just sex. This meant baring everything, exposing myself to him in the most vulnerable way.

I rubbed my clit, keeping my eyes on his even when I wanted to avert them. I could feel the heat climbing my chest and neck, flaming in my cheeks. He was riveted on me, his fingers lacing deeper into my hair as my breathing grew shorter and my touch bolder.

I caressed myself harder, slipping farther along my folds until my finger poised at my sensitive entrance. I sank inside with a long groan, my knees falling open in the tub, my shoulders lowering into the water. But his grip on my hair anchored me, as well as that dark, demanding gaze that only increased the tightening in my core.

“Two fingers,” he said, and I did it without thought. I wrapped my other hand around my breast, squeezing rhythmically while I pleasured myself. The heel of my hand brushed my clit with every pass and a jolt shimmered through me, making my hips jerk and water splash out of the tub. Drops slid down his abs and that killer vee that led to his cock, but he didn’t wipe them up. Instead, he fisted his cock with his other hand, pulling on it with such force that I had to press my thighs together. Trapping my fingers inside.

“You’re close.”

It wasn’t a question, and I couldn’t answer in any case. I just moaned as he worked himself from root to tip, his hand in my hair guiding my head backward so that our eyes were inexorably linked. My fingers moved faster, my need growing until I couldn’t hold back my panting breaths.

His cock was right beside my cheek, full and hard, and I wanted it in my mouth. My lips parted and he gave me the tip, resting it there while I whimpered and used my body for our combined enjoyment. Salt burst across my tongue and he groaned and pushed forward, sending me over the edge. I cried out, never releasing him, sucking on him as my fingers plunged again and again, wringing out every ounce of pleasure.

All too soon, he withdrew. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

I didn’t know what that meant. “What’s—”

He hooked his hands under my arms and lifted me up, giving me no choice but to wrap my dripping limbs around him as he carted me from the room. Drying me off didn’t seem to be a concern. I clung to him, weak from my orgasm and slightly dizzy from the steam.

Still so eager for more.

He crossed the hall and entered a bedroom, covering the distance from the door to the huge bed in several steps. I glimpsed more candles and additional flowers by the bed, along with something silky draped over one of the posts. Dimly, I made out dark wood beams in the high ceiling and a fan paddling lazily overhead.

He lowered me gently on top of the sheets and opened my thighs, spreading them obscenely wide as he kneeled between them. Then his mouth was on me, and I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but be. His erotic kisses were so much more aggressive than my ministrations had been, and I needed that too. I needed his raw greed, the way he splayed me open and just feasted on me as if I was the most delectable thing he’d ever tasted. The sounds he made, the scruff buzzing over my flesh, the rasp of his teeth on that taut little bud that was tightening again already. Just for him.

But he had something else in mind. He eased back, licking his lips by the glow of the candlelight. Wetness gleamed on his chin and rather than being embarrassed, I shivered. He rose and lay back against the pillows, pulling me on top of him. I kissed him eagerly, always aroused by the taste of myself on his tongue. He murmured something, too low for me to hear, and nipped my lower lip, the sting of pain arrowing right to my clit. Mindlessly, I grinded against him, rubbing up and down, the sensation of his hard length right where I needed it driving me wild.

Then I noticed again that length of silk looped around the post. I reached for it and his jaw flexed. Not just, say, a tie to a robe. This had a much different purpose.

“Another part of your Valentine’s seduction?” I asked huskily, trailing the material over his shoulder as I rose, my breasts dangling so close to his mouth. He buried his face between them, cupping and kneading them in his big hands as my head dropped back, pleasure rolling through me in a wave. I nearly came on the spot.