Stolen Love (Beauty in the Stolen 3)

One lick, and I’m lost. She’s wet for me. Just for me. She lifts her hips as I part her with my tongue and swipe the tip over her clit. She grips my hair and keeps my mouth where she wants it, but this is happening at my pace. Taking her wrists, I plant them at her sides and go back to licking my treat. I take my time, until she squirms and moans.

When she says, “Please,” I fuck her with my tongue. It only takes a few pumps and a hard suck on her clit for her to come. Clamping her legs around my face, she climaxes in my mouth, giving me those sexy sounds I missed so much. I lick her through her aftershocks until her thighs quake and she fights to get away.

I make quick work of getting rid of the last piece of clothing, the last barrier between us. Naked, I crawl back over her and angle my hips between her thighs. I don’t bother with a condom. We don’t need one. Bracing a palm next to her face, I lift on one elbow so I don’t crush her with my weight and grip the base of my cock in my other hand. I shiver with anticipation when I drag the head over her folds, lubricating the crest with her arousal. She wraps a hand around my nape as I align our bodies and drive home.

There’s no time for gentle. I’ve been withholding for too long. I want to go slowly but she’s wet and tight, sucking me deeper. I don’t kiss her. I want to see her eyes. I want to see what she feels when I pull out and sink balls-deep again. I drown in the little noises she makes when I start moving. She rocks with me, matching my pace. Her gasps are soft and sweet. There’s something pure and ethereal about those sounds. I watch and listen, sinking a little deeper and drowning a little more in senses and feelings.

She rakes her nails over my back. The bite of pain almost makes me come. I grind my teeth, holding out for as long as I can. She brushes a palm over the tattoo I got to eternalize in ink the way I love her, tracing the petals of the flowers on my shoulder. I don’t want this to end, but already pleasure twists around my insides, roping me in.

A few more thrusts and I come so hard I see stars. Between ejaculating and flying higher than a helium balloon, I slip a hand between our bodies and take care of her pleasure. She follows seconds later like a tail burning after a comet in a midnight sky. Her sparks draw pictures of happily-ever-afters in the dying embers of my fire. Behind my closed eyes, I see the infinity signs Leon and I drew as children with burning sticks in winter nights. If you wave the stick fast enough, it makes a picture, an uninterrupted loop. The red coal on the glowing end of the stick would draw pictures in the dark for as long as we could keep up the movement. I’m not planning on dropping the stick, not in forever and certainly not when we’re facing Wolfe.

My phone pings from the lounge.

Speak of the devil.

Regretfully, I pull out. “Don’t move.”

I go to the bathroom, open the faucet, and wet a facecloth when the water runs warm. Cas waits obediently. I kneel between her legs and clean up the spillage. The euphoria of our lovemaking doesn’t last long. It’s replaced with survival instinct and the habitual adrenaline that comes before a fight.

I kiss the juncture of her legs and close her thighs. Unable to resist, I kiss her stomach, nipples, and lastly her lips. Taking her hands, I pull her into a sitting position. She winces.

Concern eats into my gut. “You okay?”

“It’s nothing.” Her smile comes easily. “Every now and then the stitches pull a little.”

“It’s a normal sensation. It should go away when they start to dissolve.”

She wraps her arms around her knees. “I’m good.”

Outwardly, she appears calm, but her hands tremble a little when she checks the time on her watch.

Roughly an hour must’ve passed. It’s too soon for Wolfe to arrive. Still, I prefer to be ready.

I don’t rush her. I run a shower and wash her hair and body. I take my time with her, using the warm water and a massage to help calm and relax her. I need this too. I need this time with her.

When the water runs cold, I wrap a towel around her, pat her dry, and wring the water from her hair. Taking more time, I brush out the long strands and dry them with the hairdryer. She watches me in the mirror with her lip caught between her teeth as I drop the towel from around my waist and walk to the bedroom. She follows quietly, clutching the towel between her breasts.