The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

Innocence that had nothing to do with virginity but was, instead, a part of her, a sweetness of soul like the petals of a flower.

Caleb kissed her breasts. Suckled at her nipples. Heard her soft cries of pleasure as he kissed his way down the length of her, nuzzled her thighs apart, sought and found the ineffable sweetness that awaited him.

Her cries came faster.

Her hands dug into his hair.

He kissed. Nipped. Licked.

She screamed and came against his mouth.

He gave himself the exquisite pleasure of savoring the taste of her orgasm. Then he rose, moved up her body, took her mouth with his and let her taste their mingled passion on his tongue.

She moaned.

Raised her hips.

Arched against him.

He kissed her again. Then he knelt between her thighs …

And went still as stone.

No, he thought, no …

“What is it?” she whispered.

He wanted to laugh. Or cry. Maybe just do whichever came first.

“I don’t have anything with me,” he said. She shook her head. “Condoms, Sage. I don’t have—”

She reached out her hand, lay her index finger lightly over his mouth.

“It’s okay.”

“No. It isn’t. I—”

“It’s fine, Caleb. I’m on the pill.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. She’d just spoken the sweetest words he’d ever heard.

“Good,” he said softly. “Perfect. Absolutely per—”

She arched toward him.

He eased inside her.

She was hot. Wet

. She was a miracle, just waiting for him to claim.

“Sage,” he whispered.

She made a tiny, incoherent sound.

He watched as her eyes lost their focus. Watched her head toss from side to side.

He went deeper. Moved faster. Harder. Set a rhythm that transcended any he’d ever known.