K. Bromberg - Slow Burn

“Mm. I want to taste you,” he murmurs a second before I watch him lower and then feel his mouth on my bared flesh. And it’s not like I’m not watching him do it, but the warmth of his mouth still shocks me, makes me tense up.

His fingers slide back and forth once, then twice, before he tucks them into me. I’m wet instantly, my body so primed for him as he begins to slide his fingers in and out of me at the same time his tongue laves my external center of nerves. I weave my fingers in his hair, a gentle way to tell him when the sensations are just too much. And when I tug on his hair, he just laughs softly, the vibration of it an added element to his ministrations as he completely ignores my request.

He looks up at me, eyes hungry with a carnal sensuality. “You said you wanted to feel for the right reasons … so sit back, do anything but shut up—hell, scream if you want—and let me make you feel to remember … not to forget.”

He presses a kiss to the top of my sex before using his tongue to part me as he slides back down. This time, though, his fingers pull out to part me so that his tongue can plunge in, driving my need to levels that render me senseless.

Soon the ragged cry falls from my mouth, and I push my hips toward his mouth and my head falls back against the couch while I absorb the seduction of his tongue. I force myself to open my eyes so that I can watch him manipulate me, own me … love me.

And there is something so raw and real in the moment his eyes raise to meet mine, my taste on his tongue and my body at his mercy, that I begin to tremble as the first strains of my orgasm begin to pulse through me.

“Oh God!” I cry out when it hits me full force, lost to him and the moment because this may be a physical release, but it’s also the emotional offering of my heart. My body slowly liquefies as the spasms abate, Becks still groaning with desire as he tastes my pleasure.

I swear I hear him say, “That’s one,” but I’m so lost to the world beyond that using energy to respond is nearly impossible.

I let my head fall back, eyes closed, muscles still riding the orgasmic aftershocks. His mouth leaves the V of my thighs, and the cool breeze is a slight shock when it hits my swollen flesh. His body brushes against my thighs, and then I feel his smooth crest positioned perfectly at my entrance.

“Look at me, Haddie.” His words pull me from my pleasure-induced coma. The mixture of authority and compassion in his voice tugs my insides in every direction imaginable, giving me a glimpse of what I’ve always gravitated toward and what I now find incredibly sexy.

Only Becks could pull this mix off.

The only thought I can manage before he pushes his way into me at an achingly slow pace is what a lucky, lucky woman I am to have found him.

And not to have lost him.

Our eyes lock while we both succumb to the slow, sweet burn of pleasure as he bottoms all the way out. He stills, his hips flexing in a show of restraint from driving in me at the thunderous rhythm his eyes tell me he’s dying for. And that little movement of his hips seems like nothing, but it causes his dick to press against the exact place I need to feel it.

My breath hitches, and my fingernails dig into my own thighs when mindless pleasure takes hold as he slowly pulls out, every single nerve paid perfect attention from the pace he sets. I look down to where we are joined, the head of his cock buried inside me, but the remainder glistens with my arousal. He begins to slide back in, the hotter-than-hell image of him becoming part of me in all ways possible is the only thing I can focus on.

I’m lost to the thought and the sight until I look up and meet his eyes. He’s inches from my face, so I can’t mistake the emotion swimming in the aqua pools in front of me: love, desire, need, want.

And the last one solidifies everything I feel for him and then some: It’s awe .

My heart swells, and a smile spreads on my lips as I lean up to kiss him. The action earns me a rough growl since my whole body tenses with the motion, causing my muscles to tighten around him.

Our restraint snaps.

Desire consumes us as he yanks my torso forward so he can tackle my mouth with his tongue. I taste my own arousal on his lips, and that mixed with the increasing tempo of his hips’ cadence causes the tingle of sensation to turn into an earthquake of aching need.

My hands begin to roam, demanding more with scoring fingernails and bruising holds as his mouth brands my body and his dick dominates every sensation I have. The onslaught is so intense, so riddled with passion and urgency, that as my body begins to tighten around him, I lose myself completely.

I can’t concentrate anymore. I have to remind myself to breathe, tell my thighs not to squeeze him out as they press against his torso from the building pressure. My lips fall lax, my ability to kiss him lost from the inundation of experiencing so much at once. I’m unable to do anything … anything that is but feel .

I look up at him, my slow and steady, to find him anything but that. His eyes blaze into mine, demanding that I give him everything of myself right now. The look alone makes my mouth go dry—the glimpse of my bad boy coming through momentarily. He reaches down and digs his fingers into the flesh at my hips to tilt them and alter the sensation.

And all of it—the look in his eyes, the ownership in his touch, the breath he’s stolen from me, and his heart that he’s given me—pushes me over the edge. My body explodes into a sea of liquid fire that leaves every part of me burned with Becks’s indelible mark.

He pulls me forward, fitting himself to me skin to skin so that he can piston his hips harder, faster, drawing out my orgasm while igniting his. He buries his face in the curve of my neck as he calls my name over and over in a matching rhythm to his thrusts. He rocks us, our bodies tangled up in each other’s and our hearts getting used to the weight of the chain and lock settling there for good.

My heart is thundering so loud in my ears that I almost miss the words he says, but there’s no mistaking them once my mind processes them. My muscles freeze momentarily, the tears stinging my eyes a complement to the soft smile on my lips. I squeeze my arms around him a bit tighter, my soul sighing in contentment before I lean back and meet his eyes.

I need him to see me when I say it for the first time.

“I love you too, Beckett.”

Chapter 31

“I had tons of fun today. I’ll see you when I get back from my trip, okay?” I cringe at the lie, hoping Maddie can’t hear the guilt in my voice. At first she’s quiet on the other end of the line, my body rocking as I wait for her to call me on the carpet. “You have a blast at your slumber party tonight, okay?”

“I will. It’s going to be sooo much fun!” She giggles, and the sound warms my heart because she’s taking baby steps to normalcy. And I fear if she finds out I’m sick, it’ll knock her back some. “Fly safe with angels. And call me lots if you can! Love you, Haddie Maddie.”

“I will,” I say, thinking of the only angel I need looking out for me. “Love you more, Maddie Haddie.”

“Hearts and heels.”

I catch the sob that threatens with her comment and fortunately am able to suppress it. “Hearts and heels, baby girl.”

The phone clicks, and I gasp out when I remove the hand I’m holding over my mouth. I slide down the wall, my phone clattering to the ground beside me as I fight the range of emotions that are on constant recycle today.

I hate lying to Maddie, even if I’m doing it with her best interests in mind. But it still sucks telling her I’m going on a business trip tomorrow when in fact I’m going in for surgery. I don’t want her scared or worried. I want her to be the little girl slowly healing, learning to live again without her mommy.