Page 73 of Burn for Me

My efforts only make his grip shift to my hips as he refuses to let his mouth leave my throbbing hole. Normally, I love how vocal he is when we're intimate, but right now, it's his lack of words that have me shamelessly grinding against his face. Each moan and grunt that crawls through his throat vibrates through my bones, making me feel as if he's enjoying this as much as I am.

“Sam, wait–” I moan. My brows furrow, and my lips part as the pressure starts to build in my abdomen at an intensity I've yet to experience. Gasping, I fight against his hold, nearly crawling back on the bed, but he doesn't let go. Instead, he withdraws his fingers and stands while placing a gentle nip against my clit.

“You're gonna have to use your safe word if you need me to stop, Little Devil.” He says in a strained, hoarse whisper that has me questioning what I want right now. I slump back into the mattress, and he dives back in, bracing his palm into the comfort as his arm wraps around my hips to draw my pussy into his mouth.

Now I understand why Sam enjoys having control in the bedroom. It serves as a reminder that the decisions and choices are entirely yours. If I were to say a specific word, he would stopimmediately, and if I begged for more, he would happily oblige. It’s a freeing feeling without uncertainty about what happens next because I hold all the necessary answers.

I know by now that I'm an incoherent, mumbling, whining mess with the sounds that fall from my mouth. It feels like he is still holding fire to my skin with the way it tingles, and I can't tell if the spots forming in my vision are due to my refusal to breathe or the tension bunching in my muscles.

“Please, stop holding back.”

I wasn't expecting him to continue begging; I had hoped he would turn the tables and take control. But I won't lie: hearing his voice in that broken gasp as he draws in a breath before delving his tongue back into my cunt is addicting.

It makes me want to let go of the little restraint I have left as I teeter on the edge of being thrown over. The only problem is that this churning in my stomach feels different—it's tighter and more challenging to control with each drag of his tongue between my skin. I'm acutely aware of the sheets clinging to my skin and the dampness trailing back toward my hips, creating a wet spot at the small of my back. He lifts me higher, and I wrap my ankles around his neck, earning a groan in response. I can't take a deep enough breath, and I can't find a place to put my hands to hold onto something.

“I’ve got you.” he hushes through a moan and that thin rope I had been desperately trying to hold onto slips through my fingers with a broken cry.

For a moment, everything is blank and numb. No heavy panting or moans echoing off the walls back at me; there aren't fingers gripping into my flesh or saliva sticking to my skin. It's just black.

Tremors wrack my entire being as he slowly lowers me back onto the mattress and trails a path of feather-light kisses up my torso to my neck, where his face presses into the spot. I placemy hands on his chest, hoping his typically steady heart rate can ground me. However, I find it futile as it pounds just as wildly against my palm as mine does against my ribs.

I'm only now noticing how damp my palms are and how a slickness transfers from his scruff to my throat, so I lightly tap at his chest to determine where it's all coming from. Pulling back, he tears the mask from his sweat-soaked head, and the dim light shimmers off his body, creating an almost ethereal glow.

“You're too sweaty and sticky, and it's too much for me to handle right now.” I huff through my heavy breathing, trying to say it as gently as possible.

“Darlin’,” he drawls, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips before retreating behind his teeth, “most of it is from you.”

My eyes widen, and despite the jelly-like weakness in my muscles, I try to scramble away. Never in my life have I caused such a mess, and it's pretty embarrassing to realize just how far he has pushed me. I know it’s been a few years since I’ve had a man’s mouth down there, but I didn’t expectthatto happen.

“Let me take care of you. You suck at letting me try the aftercare shit.” He huffs as he grapples to try and pull me back on the bed, but I evade his grasp, pulling the hem of my shirt down.

“I need to pee first,” I exclaim as he lunges to grab my arm, causing my knees to wobble. With an exasperated sigh, he slumps back onto the sheets.

“Go ahead, Darlin’. When you’re done, I need to re-bandage your arse.” He waves his hand dismissively, as if irritated, but the genuine smile across his face says otherwise.

“It’s fine; it needs to breathe anyway,” I laugh breathlessly as I disappear through the doorway. It almost sounds like he’s stripping the sheets off the bed. A moment of silence passes, then his voice returns to the stern, grumpy tone I’ve come to love.

“I’m serious, Jasmine. This isn’t up for debate.”

I roll my eyes, quickly strip off my clothes to clean up, and then slip into that robe I like. However, curiosity wins out, and I turn my hips toward the mirror and stand on my tiptoes to examine what he had done last night.

My jaw nearly drops, but not at the sight of the bruised, broken skin looking like perfectly steady hands did it; it’s the thick line through my tattoo and the single word that has me trying to grapple with whether I’m angry or shocked.

“Sam Morana!” I yell, tracing my fingers over each letter. I need to find out his middle name so that it sounds more intimidating whenever I yell at him. I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities to do so.

“You’re lucky it says ‘devil.’ I was half tempted to carve my name into your skin instead.” He calls out casually, as though what he said wasn’t completely insane. There must be something seriously wrong with me. Spending all this time with the psychos I call my team has messed with my head because when I look up in the mirror, I catch myself smiling.

“Beds clean. Now, get your pretty arse in here and lay with me before we have to get ready!”

Twenty-four

9-3-2024

The things we do for the ones we love.

-Sam

Based on all the information I’ve gathered, I should be able to prevent our intel from spreading and narrow down the list of people with the details.

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