Page 107 of Stolen Vows

My body bows off the chaise, quivering and shaking as Graham works me through it with his tongue and fingers. He doesn't let up, prolonging my pleasure until it borders on too much, oversensitivity making me whimper and gasp.

Only then does he ease off, pressing soft, soothing kisses to my inner thighs as I come down from my high. I’m boneless, spent, a puddle of satisfied goo melted into the cushions. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, my body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. Graham presses a final, soft kiss to my sensitive flesh before crawling up my body. He braces himself above me on his forearms, his face hovering inches from mine.

“Hi,” I whisper, a blissed out smile curving my lips.

“Francesca,” he rumbles, his eyes soft and warm as they trace over my features. “Okay?”

I nod, still a little dazed. “More than okay. That was . . .” I trail off with a sigh. “Amazing.”

He smiles, a slow, satisfied curve of his lips. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Heat flushes through me at his words, desire already stirring to life again despite my boneless state. “Good.”

“Good?” He kisses me then, deep and thorough, the taste of me still on his tongue.

I moan into his mouth, my arms looping around his neck to pull him closer, but the angle is all wrong. I break the kiss with a gasp, my hands pushing lightly at his shoulders. “Wait. I want . . .”

He pulls back instantly, concern etched in the furrow of his brow. “What’s wrong?”

I lick my lips, tasting myself on them. “Nothing. I want to taste you too.”

His eyes darken, pupils blown wide with desire. A muscle ticks in his jaw as he swallows hard. “Fuck.”

I sit up, gently urging him to shift positions with me until he’s the one sitting on the couch and I’m kneeling between his thighs. I look up at him through my lashes, my hands sliding up his muscular thighs. He’s still fully dressed while I’m nearly naked, and there’s something thrilling about the power imbalance.

“Can I?” I murmur, my fingers toying with the waistband of his sweatpants.

He exhales shakily, one hand coming to cup my cheek. His thumb strokes over my kiss-swollen bottom lip. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” And I do. I want to take him apart the way he just did for me. I want to taste him, feel the weight of him on my tongue. I want to make him lose control.

I hold his gaze as I hook my fingers into his waistband. He lifts his ass off the couch long enough to tug his sweatpants down far enough. His cock springs free, thick and long and hard.

Andpierced.

“Oh holy shit.” It’s a whispered sort of gasp, smothered in genuine surprise and delight. It’s impulsive and out of character for me, but I lean forward and flick the tip of my tongue over the metal barbell nestled beneath the crown of his cock. The contrast of cool metal against his warm skin is amazing.

“Francesca,” he groans, his thighs flexing beneath my palm.

I do it again, tracing the curved edges of his piercing with my tongue, my mind racing with possibilities. I’ve read enough romance books with pierced heroes to know it’s going to feel good inside me, but I’ve never experienced it firsthand.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous about it. But more than that, I’m excited. Intrigued by this new discovery about my husband and eager to explore it fully.

I wrap my hand around his thick length, stroking him from base to tip, my thumb grazing over the metal barbell with every pass. He’s so hard, I’m a little worried I won’t be able to fit much of him in my mouth.

But fuck me, I’m going to try.

I glance up at him from beneath my lashes as I lower my head, my tongue darting out to lick the bead of pre-cum from his tip. “Tell me what you like, husband.”

His eyes are dark, hooded with arousal. “I like you.”

A low laugh slips out of me as I wrap my lips around the broad head of his dick, my tongue swirling around his piercing. His low groan sends a flood of arousal through me. I take him deeper, inch by inch, until he bumps the back of my throat. I wrap my hand around the base of his dick, and I hollow out my cheeks as I begin to suck.

“Fuck. Fuck me. Oh my fucking god,” Graham grunts. His thighs flex on either side of me, like he’s holding himself back from thrusting.

I want to grin, but instead, I get to work on making my husband come down my throat.

I bob my head, taking him as deep as I can before pulling back to swirl my tongue around his piercing. Graham’s hand tangles in my hair, his grip tightening with every pass of my lips over his hard length. His groans and grunts spur me on, pride swelling in my chest at the way I’m unraveling him with my mouth.

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