Page 46 of Steele

Without words, he knew just how to touch me. He slid a finger along my soaked folds and grazed my clit. With a delicate touch, he rimmed my opening and pushed inside me. My head tipped back, my back arched, and I hissed a breath.

His chuckle made me warm and needy. It was dark and slightly depraved. I felt it deep in my core, like a coiling pleasure searching for a release. With a slow descent, he moved lower on the bed, trailing kisses along my ribs and touching his tongue to the dip of my pelvis.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night.” He positioned between my thighs, braced his hands on my knees, and opened my legs. Shadows crossed his face, and his eyes darkened. He was beautiful with his hair tangled around his shoulders.

I wondered if his heart raced the way mine did. Did he feel vulnerable the way I did? Maybe we both needed shelter. Not from the wind and the rain, but I needed not to sink into the chaos and betrayal threatening to drown me.

I leaned up on my elbows. Dark lashes framed his hazel eyes. Our gazes held, and his stubble was slightly rough against my flesh as he swiped his tongue over my pussy.

I clutched the blanket in my fists as he devoured me, slicing through my folds and curling his tongue around my clit. With a light suction he had me aching for more. I reached between my legs and feathered my fingers through his hair as he licked and sucked.

The muted beat of the music from outside the room blended with the wet sounds of him eating my pussy and my ragged breaths. Coils of pleasure tightened in my core. Every nerve in my body tingled, and heated shivers skated over my flesh.

“Your pussy is so fucking soft,” he whispered and slid two fingers into me. “Are you ready to come, baby?” He renewed his assault on my pussy, swiping his tongue over my clit, slurping my juices, and wrecking me with his fingers deep inside me.

Those two fingers had my body bending. Fucking me with his hand and mouth had me squirming with my impending release. My hands tightened into fists, every muscle tensed, and my core contracted.

Shards of pleasure exploded inside me. “Brett,” I whisper-breathed. “Oh god.” I trembled and gasped. My hips bucked. He closed his mouth over my pussy and sucked harder, drawing out my pleasure. As the last flutters pulsed against his fingers, he kissed my inner thigh, then slid off the mattress.

I stared at him, swallowing the raw, achy need inside me. Brett shoved his jeans and boxers over his hips and down his legs then crossed to the large dresser, opened the top drawer, and retrieved a couple of condoms.

“I want you here, in my bed,” he said and dropped the condoms on the nightstand. “All night.” He tugged on the blanket. I scooted beneath the sheet, and he slid in next to me. Lying face to face, he combed my hair from my face. “This doesn’t feel casual.”

I swallowed the emotion rising into my throat. “It doesn’t for me, either.”

He leaned in and sipped my lips. I pressed closer, closed my eyes, and he took the kiss deeper. This was so good and so dangerous. With his scent surrounding me, and his arms holding me, he made me feel wanted.

The sheets were cool, and his body was warm and strong. I glided my palm over his shoulder as his lips trailed along my jaw and nipped at the tender skin beneath my ear.

Leaning up on one elbow, he grabbed the condom and tore the package with his teeth. He reached beneath the blanket.

I smiled and lifted the covers. With his gaze on mine, he stroked his cock. He was long and thick and hard.

“I like the way you look at me.” He fit the condom to the dome. The latex stretched as he rolled it down the shaft. Once sheathed, he smiled, tugged the comforter back over us, and shifted between my spread thighs.

Before I could take a breath, he breached my opening and pushed inside me, reared back, and surged in again. Strangled noises escaped my lips.

He rose onto outstretched arms and stilled. “Are you okay?”

I lifted my thighs higher on his flanks, gripped his ass, and rolled my hips. “Don’t stop.”

His dark and gravelly chuckle seeped into me. “Hold on tight, baby.” He lowered his face and claimed my lips. And then he railed into my body. His cock slammed hard and deep, knocking the breath from my lungs. He tasted of whiskey and temptation, and he smelled of sex and sin.

The wooden headboard banged against the wall, and the mattress groaned. He shifted his hips, adjusted his angle, and penetrated deeper. I felt him everywhere. I clung to his broad shoulders, absorbing the weight of his body against mine. Heat slipped through my veins, and my core pulsed around his cock.

In the darkened room, he fucked me like he needed me. Like I was his oxygen, and he was mine. He was tender even as his body pinned me to the bed. With his cock thrusting into me again and again, he drove me to the edge of a mind-numbing abyss of pleasure.

“Fuck, Jaymi, it’s like your pussy was made for me.”

I think maybe it was because he filled the deepest part of me, stretched me, and consumed me in ways that had me scared and vulnerable. At the same time, with him, I felt safe. I clung to him as he dipped his head and kissed me.

I opened my mouth, tangling my tongue with his, desperate for him to feel how much I needed him, too. I was drunk on whiskey and desire and bad decisions. But I didn’t care. He was all I could see. In this moment, he was all I wanted.

A silent cry crawled up my throat. My body convulsed and my mind tumbled into a dizzying kaleidoscope of sensations. My nipples were tight and aching, and my pussy was slippery and wet.

“Fuck.” Sweat slicked his back as muscles in his arms flexed beneath my palms.

“Yes,” I hissed, feeling his impending climax inside me. His cock, thick and stiff, erupted with rhythmic pulses. I wound my legs around his hips, dug my heels into his buttocks, and absorbed the punishing thrusts.