Page 77 of Every Shattered Note
There’s a flicker of amusement in his tone, but it’s threaded with hunger, too.I smile—just barely—before giving in, breathless.“Your mouth.Your fingers.I need you.Need you to make the ache go away.”
“This finger?”he asks, slipping one in, slow and deliberate, his gaze locked on mine like he’s cataloging every breath, every sound.“Or do you want to be stretched a little more—maybe two?”
I cry out as he curls the first just right, dragging it along that spot that makes my vision blur.My back arches off the mattress, but he doesn’t let up.His mouth is everywhere—tongue flicking, swirling, plunging deep—tormenting me with merciless precision.He pushes me to the edge and pulls me back again, leaving me soaked, wrecked, trembling for more.
“Fuck,” he groans against me, voice hoarse, mouth wet and greedy.His breath stutters like he’s the one unraveling.Then he slides a second finger in beside the first, stretching me open, filling me so good it borders on obscene.
“You taste like sin,” he growls, rough and reverent, voice vibrating against my soaked skin.“And I’m not stopping until you’re shaking—until you come all over my tongue and beg me to keep going.”
He licks deeper.Rougher.No mercy now.His fingers fuck into me with brutal precision, the rhythm unrelenting.His tongue moves like he knows every inch of me, like he’s hell-bent on ruining me from the inside out.All I can do is take it—take him.
“Dex,” I sob, voice raw, my thighs clamping around his shoulders as pleasure slams into me.My hands fist the sheets like they’re the only thing holding me to the earth.
And then I break.
Splintering apart with his mouth on me, his fingers buried deep, his name torn from my throat like a prayer too filthy to speak in daylight.
He groans as I come, like he can taste it, feel it.He doesn’t stop.Not even when I’m shaking, gasping, wrecked and gone.His mouth keeps moving—slow now, reverent, like he’s savoring the way I fall apart just for him.
He kisses between my thighs, dragging his tongue across oversensitive skin, licking up everything he’s drawn from me like he’s starving for it.
When he finally pulls back, his mouth is slick, jaw tight, breath ragged.His eyes never leave mine—dark, wild, wrecked.
“Fuck,” he mutters, voice rough with hunger.“You taste so fucking good.Sweet.Messy.Mine.”
He runs his tongue along his bottom lip like he’s trying to keep the taste there forever.“I could live down there.Wake you up with my mouth on you.Fall asleep between your thighs.Make you come so many times you forget your own name.”
He kisses the inside of my thigh—slow, filthy, possessive—like he’s branding me with his mouth.
A shiver rips through me, and he lingers there, lips dragging over my skin as he exhales, tasting every tremble he’s caused.
Then his voice drops again, a sinful rasp against my skin.“And I’m not done.Not even close.”
My pulse stutters.I’m soaked, aching, ruined—and still, it’s not enough.“What else?”I whisper, voice trembling with need.“Tell me what you’re going to do to me.”
His eyes flare, a dark glint of heat and possession.“You want more of this filthy mouth?”he growls as he rises to his knees between my thighs.“You’re gonna get it, baby.Every inch.Every word.Every filthy fucking second.”
For a moment, he just looks at me—like he’s trying to burn the image into his memory.Me.Spread out, flushed, wrecked, and waiting for him.
His chest heaves, breath ragged as his hands move to the buttons of his shirt—short sleeves clinging to his biceps, the fabric already loose.He pops them open one by one, slow and deliberate, before pushing the shirt off his shoulders and tossing it aside without ever breaking eye contact.
Then his hands go to his pants.The zipper slides down.He shoves them past his hips along with his boxers, stripping the last barrier between us.
He’s beautiful.All golden skin, defined muscle, and raw want.Thick and hard and already leaking for me.
I reach for him instinctively, hands gliding over his hips, then up—over the tight ridges of his abdomen, every inch of him flushed with heat, vibrating with tension.I want to touch all of him.Taste him.Worship him with my mouth.
But before I can wrap my fingers around the thick length of his cock, he catches my wrists gently, holding them against his chest like he’s barely hanging on.
“Not yet,” he breathes, voice wrecked and ragged with restraint.“If you touch me now, I’ll lose it.I need to be inside you when I fall apart.”
I lick my lips, aching everywhere.“I need you,” I whisper, the words torn from me, raw and breathless.
“You can taste me later,” he murmurs, eyes locked on mine, voice low and full of something that feels like a promise.“We’ve got time.”
I whimper, needing him like I need air.Like my body won’t settle until it’s filled with him.
Then he moves—without a second of hesitation.His mouth trails up from my thigh, over my belly, across the curve of my breast.He licks across my nipple, slow and possessive, before kissing up to the hollow of my throat.His body brushes mine—heat and slick skin and hard muscle pressing me into the bed.
