Page 64 of Devil's Due: Sarge

“Sorry?” I ask, thinking I maybe heard him wrong.

“You heard me just fine, baby. I love you. I’min lovewith you. I thought I’d made that clear.”

Apparently, those words were the ones I needed to hear. Instead of responding to him verbally, I press up to capture his lips with my own. Once I’ve started it, he takes it over with vigor.

He loves me?Me?My mind can hardly accept this as fact. Maybe it’s inappropriate for us to be getting hot when so much has happened today, but I couldn’t stop it to save my life. We need this connection. Weneedit.

Each piece of clothing gets expertly peeled from my body. The whole while I’m trying to wrap my mind around how I could have misconstrued the situation so badly. His fingers glide down past my stomach until slipping between the folds of my sex already weeping for his touch. He holds me. Not kissing me. Not speaking. Simply looking me in the eyes as he pleasures me, rubbing and tweaking my center.

I can hardly catch my breath. “Sarge,” I whisper. He shakes his head, confusing me. Why is he shaking his head?

Such contemplations will have to wait. His teasing. All his tickles and soft touches—using his masterful fingers to build me up to heights IthoughtI’d reached before. Each time with Sarge shows me again how seriously he takes our lovemaking.

His hand to my hip, he uses slight pressure to shift me to my knees and takes up a position behind me. He reaches around, wedging his hand between my knees to widen my legs. My body thrums with a low buzz of electricity as he continues to fondle me.

Where we sit on the bed leaves us perched in front of the mirror over the dresser directly opposite the bed.

He moves his large hands back up to cup my breasts, capturing each of my nipples between two fingers where he tugs gently while kneading the rest.

“Look in the mirror,” he growls low in my ear. I lift my chin to take us both in. My long, blonde hair messed. My eyes hooded. His eyes full of longing. It’s a beautiful sight. “Take me,” he orders.

I position myself, pushing back, sliding along his hard shaft until I’ve taken all of him. My heart pounds. My chest heaves. The feel of him is too much—too good—and I let my eyes drift shut to collect myself.

“No, baby,” Sarge says. “Eyes open.” It takes effort, but I force them open. He smiles as he sighs, then presses kisses to the hinge of my jaw. “Now—move.” I lift myself forward and glide back in slow strokes, my eyes never leaving us in the mirror.

I’ve never seen anything hotter. A wrinkle appears above the bridge of his nose every time I bottom him out and his gaze starts to roll, making it look like he’s struggling to keep his eyes fixed on mine. His nostrils flair with each of his breaths that become heavier and more ragged.

“You see it, don’t you?” he asks.

What? Watching him, watching us. Leave it to Sarge to come up with this.

“It’s sexy,” I manage to say, sighing.

His gaze intensifies as he slowly shakes his head.

“Keep looking,” he growls.

I—what? What does he want me to— “Oh, Sarge.” The buildup of tingles and heat begins to spread, causing my entire body to tremble.

“No,” he says. No?

The trembling intensifies.

“Tell me what you see.”

I don’t understand. What does he want from me? How can he even think coherent thoughts? He scrambles my brain.

“What do you see?” he repeats.

“You… and me.”

“Who are you?” What? “Who are you?” he asks again.

“Greer.”

“Right.” His breathing comes out labored the same as mine. “Greer, who am I?”

“Sarge.”

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