Page 69 of Fake It Till You Make It

It was a question that no man had ever asked her before. She’d expected him to tell her what she had to do to satisfy him. Eli wanted her to share in their lovemaking, but she didn’t know where to start.

“Surprise me,” she said, reclining on his bed.

A wolfish smile spread across his face. “Great answer.”

The gleam in his eyes was utter devastation to her senses. She was already halfway to full power from pure attraction. Would he feel the same about her body? Was there such a thing as self–slut shaming before she actually got to the act of slutting?

“Hey,” he called. Amarie looked up and the way he drank in her full curves erased her fears.

“All you have to do is say yes… or no. Grab the headboard with both hands.” Oh yes, he took the decision right out of herhands.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He chuckled. “Are you toying with me?”

“Absolutely not. I love being swept off my feet and… and you do it so often. Promise you won’t stop after you get the kitty cat.”

“Kitty cat?”

“You know… the one with the warm center.” She raised one brow, before using her tongue in a slow sweep of her lips.

Eli eye’s sparkled with mischief. “Will this kitty purr?”

“Depends? If you lick her just right,” she said, not shy at all with her soon-to-be lover.

When he kissed a slow trail from her ankle, the sensitive crease at her knee, alternating the firmness of his mouth with the nip of his teeth, she shivered.

Eli took his time caressing every curve. Kisses rained down, drenching her from the inside out. He found unchartered territory on her body, exposed sensitive areas, and exploited others. One by one, he felled her defenses, each touch demanding her surrender. How he loved her—words couldn’t describe the tenderness of his caresses. She felt his gaze, a tangible cord binding them together.

Warmth spread over her breast before he covered it with his tongue. He moved on to the next. She whimpered at the momentary absence of his mouth. Her breath quickened when he made a lazy sweep with his tongue down her abdomen. Her belly quivered. The more he teased and tasted, the higher her need for all of him raged beyond her control.

“Eli, please.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Amarie sucked in a breath and lifted her head. She offered her mouth.

“Not there, sweetheart.”

At the brush of his warm breath against her inner thigh, she gasped.

“Yes,” she moaned.

The slow rumble that sounded in his chest seemed to vibrate through her. He feasted again and again until her body could hold back no longer.

Just as her pleasure burst forth, so did her voice.

“Eli,” she screamed, a hoarse cry until she lay wordless, weightless, hopelessly against love’s allure.

When Eli entered her sometime later, safe and protected, it was unlike anything she had ever felt before. The initial controlled thrust, the stretch, the sensation of complete fullness. The emptiness that clung to her, ever present, vanished. He lowered his head, inhaled her scent, before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Breathe, my love.”

And she obeyed. He rewarded her with a slow roll of his hips. Amarie started to move with him. Their rhythm came so naturally. It felt like the sweetest song, an original tune that they wrote with the music of their bodies conducting the beats, as they learned the harmony together.

“You’re beautiful, Amarie.”

“Tell me that again,” she demanded.