Fighting for Rain - BB Easton Page 0,65

I lift her hand to the top of my head, where she gives my hair a tug. “Or you can grab this.” I lace my fingers between hers and feel a sudden bolt of electricity binding us together the moment our palms meet. “Got it?”

Rain nods, but the humor is gone from her face. Tender, doe-eyed sweetness replaces it as she brings our joined hands to her lips and plants a kiss on one of my scarred, busted knuckles.

Something clicks inside my heart. I feel it, like a fresh battery being snapped into place, and I realize that the aching, echoing hole in my chest—the one I’ve lived with my whole fucking life—wasn’t there because I was empty.

It was there so that Rain could reach in and fix me.

I press our joined hands to the plywood above her head and kiss her again, this time with all my working parts. This woman found me broken and made me whole, and I’m suddenly determined to do the same for her. I will get her the fuck out of here. I will give her a happy life, even in this shithole, lawless, dumpster fire of a world, and starting right now, I will love her the same way she loves me.

As if forever really exists.

Trailing wet kisses across her jaw and down her neck, I take my time, savoring the salt on her skin and the swell of her blood pumping beneath it. When I get to her nipple, I work it slowly, with my tongue, my lips, my teeth. I time my movements with the rise and fall of her perfect, heaving tits. But when I go to pull my hand away so that I can unfasten her jeans, Rain refuses to let go. I smile against her heated skin and pull our entwined fingers down together. Clumsily, I get her pants unbuttoned and fumble to untie her bootlaces with my one free hand.

But I don’t mind. If Rain wants to hold my hand for the rest of her life, I’ll fucking cut it off and give it to her.

Once I slide her jeans and ruined panties off over her bare feet, Rain parts her legs for me, and it feels like I’m being welcomed home.

With our hands still joined, I kiss my way from the inside of her ankle, up to her knee—which must be ticklish because it jerks and smacks me in the fucking mouth, causing Rain to giggle—and down to the soft, needy, glistening place that I plan on worshipping for the next few hours.

When I slide my tongue up her seam and around her clit, I do it only because I want to make her feel good. There’s no pretense. No impatient foreplay so that I can get off and go to bed. I don’t go straight for the spots I know will make her thighs tremble and her back arch just to speed things up. I settle in, and I let her body tell me what it wants. Long licks elicit hushed moans and slow body rolls. Swirling circles earn me short whimpers. A teasing finger causes her to buck her hips against my face, but two fingers, knuckles deep, have her head thrown back and her fist in my hair. Up and around, up and around, my tongue and my fingers ride the wave of her body, rising and falling with her quickening breaths. But still, I wait. I keep her in heaven as long as I can until her fist tightens in my hair and her thighs clamp around my ears and the first flutters of an orgasm tickle my fingers.

Then, I suck.

Rain’s entire body contracts around me as she writhes and pants and growls the sexiest fucking sounds I’ve ever heard. I slide my fingers out and replace them with my tongue, wanting to drink every drop of her the way she did me.

“Fuck, Wes,” Rain rasps, pulling my face up toward her with her free hand.

Her other one is still clutching mine, and the sight of our fingers entwined has my newly repaired heart acting like it’s on the fucking fritz already. It skips a few beats entirely as I climb up her boneless, spent body and press a kiss to her love-drunk lips.

“I’m not done yet,” I promise, sliding my aching cock over her slippery, swollen flesh.

Rain shoves her toes into the waistband of my jeans and pushes them as far down my legs as they will go.

“I’m gonna make you