Page 144 of Real's Love

Small, soft hands cupped my face and stroked my ruined cheek. “I know I’m short, but if you ever call yourself a monster again, I’m kicking your ass,” she threatened.

I smiled at her before pressing a kiss to her palm. Heat zinged between us, and she sucked in a breath.

“Targen, please.”

“Fuck. You beg so pretty,malyshka.” I wanted to hear her beg for my dick just like that. “I don’t want you to have regrets.”

“I could never regret anything with you.”

“Theory—”

“Do you know how hard it’s been to hold back?” she asked.

I looked at her like she’d suddenly grown another head. She giggled softly before telling me, “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

I moved toward Targen,straddling his lap because I was so ready to take this step. He’d seen me, reallyseenme, and still he’d held and loved on me. Suddenly, the desire I felt for him was no longer tinged with the fear of rejection. In fact, I didn’t want to feel any fear anymore, not with him around. I could feel my heart racing, excitement and a hint of nervousness swirling inside me.

I felt emboldened to act like my old self, to do what I wanted and deal with the consequences later. So, I leaned in and kissed his lips. He kissed me back like he was addicted to the taste of me, urgent and possessive and devouring my mouth with his. My body warmed, reacting to the only man who’d been able to tease a response from me in years. I felt his hand on my waist beneath the nightshirt, the gentle stroking against my skin unleashing a million butterflies. I wanted to close my eyes to enjoy the moment, but I worried about what the darkness would bring.

Targen kissed down my neck, soft, open-mouthed pressure that had me moaning. Then, it happened: his hand touched my scars, and I froze. My breathing picked up, but not because I enjoyed it. There was a sudden resurgence of fear and worry. Targen stopped and looked at me, his gaze steady and reassuring as he brushed a few strands of hair away from my face.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soothing my fluttering nerves. “Theory,milaya, you know I would never hurt you, right?”

I nodded, but the hesitation lingered between us. My fingers traced the scars on my abdomen, the reminder of what I’d survived, but also of the vulnerability that I had recently exposed. “I just… I wish I were perfect for you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

I knew it was unreasonable and shallow. I felt ashamed for even saying it.

With a gentle caress, he brushed his fingertips along my jawline, his touch reigniting the fire inside me. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation of his hand, the way it sent warmth radiating through my body. I leaned into his touch, feeling a magnetic pull drawing us together.

“Theory,” he said gently, his hand finding mine, intertwining our fingers. “Your scars… they tell a story, just like mine. There are things we understand about each other. Even if we never say that shit out loud, it’s there, and it makes me feel even closer to you. You are perfecttome, perfectforme. Scars and all.”

Damn, damn, damn, James. This man had a way of making me feel beautiful, even in my most vulnerable moments. Still, my insecurities pressed against me like a heavy blanket.

“Really?” I asked, my voice shaking just slightly.

“Really,” he assured me.

I gave him a soft smile, and in one bold sweep, threw off my shirt. He moved us and suddenly, he was above me, sliding down my body. I trembled as he anointed my scars with soft kisses and licks.

His actions wrapped around me like a soft embrace, and I felt some of the tension begin to melt away. I allowed myself to sink into the moment, to let the truth in his words and eyes and on his lips chase away the shadows of doubt.

“I’ll stop whenever you say stop. Just watch me, baby.”

I nodded again and watched, like he instructed.

His mouth continued its gentle exploration as his fingers danced along my sides, igniting sparks wherever they touched. My heart raced, and chills washed over me.

Then, his mouth was hovering over my center, so close that my clit jumped as I felt the warmth of his breath.

He pulled back slightly, and his eyes searched mine.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

I bit my lip and nodded. I watched him as his head lowered, but he kept his eyes on me.

I grabbed the sheets in a death grip as Targen slid his tongue up and down my slit. He hadn’t even dipped inside, and I'd never felt sensations like the ones I was feeling at this moment. And then that clever, curious tongue spread me open, and I lost the battle to keep my eyes open. For the next several moments, Targen worshipped my clit. There was no other way to describe the reverent way his tongue licked and laved and loved. Delicious sensations pooled between my thighs then spread outward, the pleasure seizing my body, leaving me a writhing, whimpering mess. The sounds he made as he proceeded to slurp and lick had me feeling like I was the best thing he'd ever tasted.As if he were reading my thoughts, I heard him call my name. Opening my eyes, I looked down and was immediately drawn into the heat of that silvery gaze.

“Pussy so damn good,milaya. You the sweetest thing I've ever tasted. I'ma need this shit daily. I’m telling you now, you fucked up feeding it to me.”

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