Page 62 of First Verse

“Y-yes,” she pants. “Only yours.”

“Right answer. I think you deserve a reward.”

Scooping a hand beneath her ass, I hold her against me as I shift to a tight, rolling grind that stimulates both her clit and G-spot. She starts to shake and gasp.

“Such a perfect toy,” I whisper, inhaling puffs of air from her parted lips, “telling me what I want to hear, stretching for me and clenching me so tightly. I can’t wait to find out how many inches I can fit down your throat. See your pretty tears as you gag for me. I bet you want my cum dripping from every hole in your body, don’t you?”

The hot gush and constriction around my cock tells me the answer even before her eyes roll back in her head. “I’m—oh?—”

Another orgasm crashes through her, her body clamping down and throbbing hard. I watch her face, enthralled, my own release taking a back seat. Knowing she’s never experienced this with anyone but me feels better than a stadium full of screaming fans, better than any high.

As she relaxes, I kiss her languidly. “Say ‘thank you, Wilder.’”

“Thank you, Wilder.” She smiles up at me, soft and open, all her defensive walls abolished. She’s never been more beautiful. “Was I good?”

My breath stalls in my lungs. My heart turns to fiery goo. I’m one thousand percent here for all her kinks, but something about her wanting praise does me in. My cock agrees, jumping with renewed vigor, begging for friction.

I press my forehead to hers. “So good, baby. So, so good. But it’s my turn now. You’re going to take everything I give you, aren’t you?”

She moans. “Give me everything. I want it all.”

Holy fuck.

I yank her legs from my waist, bending them so her knees are pressed to her armpits, then drop my weight. My hands seize fistfuls of her hair, close to the scalp so I don’t actually hurt her as I pull her into me with every thrust. Slow at first, then faster and harder as I chase my release.

I’m already close to the edge, acute physical pleasure compounded by the visual perfection beneath me: her gorgeous face slack with ecstasy, her eyes a doorway to the secret world that exists solely for us.

My tongue finds the succor and sanctuary of her mouth. On my next and final thrust—as my orgasm explodes like a nuclear blast in my body and she clutches me to her, holding me with all her strength—I understand how foolish I was to think I could steal more pieces of her.

Evangeline Sullivan is a law unto herself: impossible to subvert, immune to external force.

She’ll never need me like I need her.

As more fragments of my soul break free, flying into her keeping, I decide it doesn’t matter. She can have them. Every last piece of me.

I’d rather be lost in her than found anywhere else.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

evangeline

How fast does a heart beat

When it can’t tell time?

And how long must I wait

For you to be mine?

“Ms. Sullivan? Did you hear me?”

I jerk on my stool, blinking at my student, Micah. He’s frowning so hard his eyebrows are almost touching. Annoyance shines in his big brown eyes.

“Yes,” I say on reflex, then sigh and shake my head. “No. I’m sorry, Micah. What did you say?”

He squints at me like I’ve been possessed by a stranger. Fair point as this is the first time I’ve ever been less than fully immersed in a lesson with him in the two years we’ve been working together.

“I asked if you were okay,” he says, each word enunciated with the singular condescension of a twelve-year-old. I almost smile, until he adds, “You don’t look so good. Mom’s gonna be pissed if you get me sick.”

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