Came Back Haunted (Experiment in Terror #10) - Karina Halle Page 0,28
head goes back, my hips automatically rising to meet his mouth.
I can feel him smiling against me, loving when I’m verbal and loud, which I often am. He’s taking his time this morning. His tongue is flat, lapping me up in slow rhythmic strokes that melt into me, making me feel boneless, like I’m sinking through the mattress.
I try to watch him as he works me, meeting his eyes as he glances up, his gaze burning. Him and his fucking eye contact, always making things as intense as they can possibly be, and I’m always the first to look away. I know he wants to see into my soul, see me at my most vulnerable, watch me as I come to pieces around him.
But my head falls back onto the pillow as his tongue grows stiff against me, the hard pressure increasing around my clit before dipping inside of me.
I reach down and grab his thick hair, holding on, my thighs squeezing the side of his face as he brings his fingers into the mix, one of them slipping inside me as his tongue does circles around and around.
While his other hand grips my ass, he brings my hips off the bed to get in deeper, the muscles in his arm rippling.
Holy hell.
I don’t even know if I’m fully awake yet or this is some wonderful sex-filled dream because this is unreal. Something buzzes at the base of my skull, skirting down my spine until I feel like I’m plugged into an electrical current.
Then he takes it to the next level, pausing to lick one of his fingers before running it between my ass cheeks. I flinch for a moment, my body caught off-guard.
He pauses, lifting his head. “This okay?”
I gulp and say yes through a choking exhale.
He resumes, his mouth greedy but his finger gentle as he keeps stroking me. It’s wet and suggestive, and fuck, I think I want it.
No, I know I do.
He gently inserts his finger, taking it slow.
Oh. My. God.
Not that he hasn’t done this before, not that he doesn’t have a fascination with my ass. But right now, this feels so taboo, so wicked and wild that it’s turning me on to the next level. I want more of him, more of this.
I groan again, nonsense escaping my lips as he starts working his finger and mouth in tandem, deep, slick, and frenzied.
There is so much to succumb to. The wet sound of his mouth as he eats me out, how his moans vibrate through me, the smell of sex in the room. My fingers grab the sheets, begin to claw at them, unable to hold back any longer.
“Oh god,” I suddenly gasp, the words ripped out of me. “I’m coming.”
And it happens instantly, like the world I was standing on is ripped away and I’m just a shaking, crying, incoherent mess who has no control over her brain, or her heart, or her body anymore.
It’s as I’m coming—hard, so fucking hard—that I realize how damn lucky I am, because the man who is doing this to me, the man who is making my eyes roll back in my head, making me see through time, is the man I trust more than anyone else in the world. I trust him with my body, with my heart, with every inch of me.
There’s nothing better than that. Nothing. To feel so fucking wild and free and safe all at the same time.
He has me—all of me.
“Dex,” I manage to say, my fingers a vise on the sheets, my heart in my throat. “My fucking god.”
My eyes are pinched shut, mentally trying to return to the world and reality, but even so I can tell he’s smiling.
“At your service,” he says, pulling away. “Now if you want my cock instead of my finger next time, you know who to ask.”
I laugh, feeling like the bed is swallowing me whole, I’m so exhausted and spent and happy all at once. “It’s not your birthday, Dex.”
“It will be some day,” he says, and I feel him lift off the bed.
My eyes snap open. “Where are you going?”
He saunters out of the bedroom. “To get your breakfast going, baby.”
I feel guilty. I know how damn turned on he gets when he goes down on me, so it’s rare that I don’t return the favor. But even as I’m thinking that, I start to drift off to sleep again, my body turning to mush, my thoughts following.