Page 26 of The Blaze Between Us

"It's about to get better," he promises, and then he's hooking his fingers into the sides of my panties, drawing them down and off, leaving me completely naked before him.

He settles between my thighs, his broad shoulders keeping them apart. The first touch of his tongue against my pussy tears a cry from my throat. He then licks a firm stripe through it, endingwith a gentle flick against my clit that makes my hips buck involuntarily.

"Sorry," I gasp, embarrassed by my eager response.

"Don't apologize," he growls, his voice deeper than I've heard it yet. "I want to know what makes you feel good. I want to hear you."

Then his mouth is on me again, his tongue working back and forth with increasing intensity. One large hand splays across my stomach, holding me in place while the other teases at my entrance. The dual sensation is overwhelming—his mouth hot and insistent on my clit, his finger gently circling where I'm wet and aching.

I've touched myself before, of course, but nothing could have prepared me for the skill of his mouth, the confident way he reads my body's responses and adjusts accordingly. Pressure builds low in my belly, a tightening coil of pleasure that winds tighter with each stroke of his tongue.

When he finally raises his head, his beard glistens with my juices. The sight should be embarrassing but is instead profoundly erotic.

"You're so wet," he groans.

"That's a problem sometimes," I admit, feeling a flash of self-consciousness.

"Not tonight," he assures me with a heated look. "Definitely not tonight."

He rises to his feet beside the sofa, his hands moving to his belt. I watch, mesmerized, as he unbuckles it, tossing it to the floor before lowering both his jeans and briefs.

His erection springs free, thick and hard, and I swallow dryly at the sight. It's the first time I've seen a man naked in person,and the reality is more intimidating than I expected. But even as a flutter of nervousness passes through me, I feel my body responding, preparing itself for him, my thighs parting further in invitation.

"I'm sorry about your couch," I say, suddenly aware of the dampness beneath me.

"Don't worry about that," he dismisses with a shake of his head, his eyes never leaving mine as he spits into his palm and strokes himself, coating his length.

He positions himself above me, careful not to put weight on my injured ankle, as he guides the head of his cock to my entrance. The first touch of him against me draws a gasp from us both.

"You're so tight," he groans, his expression caught between pleasure and concern. "I can't promise I'll last long. It's been so fucking long."

"Having you finish fast would be a pleasure," I assure him, surprising myself with my boldness.

A smile tugs at his lips before he pushes forward, entering me with slowly. I bite my lip against the unfamiliar stretching sensation—not painful exactly, but intense, overwhelming.

"Breathe," he reminds me, his own breathing unsteady as he continues to press forward.

I inhale deeply, focusing on relaxing around him, and he slides deeper. My ankle still throbs, but the sensation is completely overshadowed by the feeling of him filling me, stretching me, making space for himself inside my body.

When he's entirely inside me, he pauses, his forehead dropping to rest against mine.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs, his voice strained with the effort of control.

He begins to move, his thrusts measured and steady at first. Each movement sends waves of sensation through me—different from what I felt with his mouth, deeper somehow, more profound.

"More," I urge him, surprised by my own demand. "Faster."

His control unravels at my words. His pace increases, each thrust driving deeper, hitting places inside me that send sparks of pleasure shooting up my body. The sound of our bodies meeting fills the room, along with our mingled breaths and moans.

I can't take my eyes off him—the powerful muscles of his arms as he holds himself above me, the sheen of sweat on his forehead and chest, the way he bites his lower lip in concentration. He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and the fact that he's here, with me, inside me, feels impossible yet perfect.

"You're beautiful," he tells me, his voice rough with exhaustion. "Your cheeks flushed red like that… Tasha, you're incredible."

His words, coupled with the increasing intensity of his thrusts, push me toward an edge I've never approached quite like this before. Pleasure keeps building, a gathering storm that suddenly breaks with surprising force. My eyes roll back, my back arches, and I'm crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me.

He groans in response, his rhythm faltering as he watches me come apart beneath him.

"That's it," he encourages, driving deeper still. "Let go, sweetheart. Let me see you."

---