Page 28 of The Chosen
Instead, several protracted moments passed as he admired my sex.
“Fucking perfect,” he murmured, running a light finger through my slickness.
“Henry,” I pleaded, gripping the sheets in an attempt to keep myself grounded.
“Your pussy is so fucking perfect. So fucking beautiful. So fucking mine.”
I fluttered my eyelids closed, basking in his touch. His words. His everything.
“Tell me, Ariana,” he said, his voice turning harsh. I snapped my gaze to his, so many emotions swirling in those green orbs. “Tell me this cunt is mine.”
“It’s yours, Henry. Every last inch of me belongs to you.”
I never thought I’d like the idea of belonging to anyone. Not after Victor.
But with Henry, it wasn’t about ownership.
It was about surrender.
Love.
Trust.
“Mine,” he grunted one last time before pressing his mouth against me, his tongue circling my clit.
I cried out, partly in relief. Partly in bliss. Nothing ever felt so damn perfect as Henry’s mouth on me, his touch igniting a fire I doubted would ever go out.
“God, I love the way you taste. Love the way you feel. Love the way you move.”
I circled my hips, my body like a live wire ready to detonate, especially when he slipped a finger inside, then another. Which only caused me to increase my motions even more. I reached down and gripped his hair, needing to hold on to something.
“That’s it, baby. Fuck my face. Get yourself off all over my tongue.”
I did as he asked, pulsing against him with more urgency. He met my motions, his tongue working my clit as his fingers thrust harder and deeper inside. When I felt his teeth scrape me, I couldn’t hold on any longer. Bright lights exploded in my vision as my body convulsed and spasmed through one of the most intense orgasms ever.
I was still disoriented when Henry straightened to kneel between my legs before driving inside of me, filling me in a way I’d never tire of. Nothing had ever felt so right. So damn perfect. Like we were made for each other. Like our broken pieces saw a match in the other.
“I love you,” I exhaled, drawing him closer, my nails digging into his back.
He lifted his eyes to mine, slowing his motions. He pushed a tendril of hair out of my face. “And I love you, Ariana. So fucking much it hurts sometimes.”
He buried his face in the crook of my neck as he began to move again, slower this time but just as fulfilling. That was the thing about Henry. He could be rough one minute and tender the next. Through it all, I still felt his love. Even from the beginning.
Even when neither of us knew what this feeling was.
I pulled him closer, threading my fingers through his hair as he continued moving inside me, each drive seeming to hit deeper, propelling me closer and closer to the edge.
And Henry knew it.
Of course he did.
He seemed to know my body better than me.
“Let me have it, Ariana. Give me your orgasm. Your bliss. Your pleasure. I need it.”
I tried to hold on. Tried to prolong this feeling, but it was useless.
I cried out, this orgasm even more powerful than the one he gave me mere minutes ago.
