Page 59 of Goldrage
“But someone might—” My protest dies as his thumb traces my bottom lip, the touch electric.
“Then you better hurry.” His voice drops to that dark range that liquifies my bones. His breath is hot against my ear. “I need this. I need you falling apart for me or I’ll surely go insane. Just a taste to get me through the next few weeks.”
His mouth finds that spot just below my ear, the one he discovered years ago that short-circuits my brain. His teeth graze my sensitive skin, and my protests dissolve into a whimper.
“Adrian,” his name escapes, my head falling back to give him better access. “We can’t… if someone…”
“A few minutes.” The words vibrate against my throat as his hands skim down my breasts. “Give me these few precious minutes. I’m begging you. Let me taste.”
I want to give in so badly it hurts. But even in the haze of need, I’m hyper-aware of every sound outside the door, each tick of the clock, the way Adrian is still healing. He shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t want himstraining himself, but the look in his eyes is more of a command than a plea. If he’s going to drown, he wants to do it with me on his tongue.
He tugs me towards the bed, and I try one last time to protest. “You need rest,” I whisper. My fingers brush the scar under his shirt. “I don’t want to hurt?—”
“You won’t,” he interrupts, already pulling me down until I straddle his lap. The mattress groans under our weight. “If you really want to help me heal, my love, you’ll sit on my face and let me taste you until I forget I’m a prisoner.”
I freeze, shocked by the bluntness, the rawness of it. Heat floods my cheeks, my throat. “Adrian,” I hiss, and maybe it’s a warning, or maybe I’m the one begging now.
He leans back, dragging me with him, and I realize I’m trembling more from want than nerves. He lies on his back, hair fanning across the sheets. His hands are on my thighs, then my hips, drawing me up and up until I’m kneeling with my knees planted on either side of his head.
His breath feathers through my thin sleep shorts. “Take them off,” he says, and when I hesitate, his grip tightens. “Now.”
I glance at the clock; time is counting down.
Quickly, I hook my thumbs in the waistband, dragging my shorts and underwear down in one shaky motion. Cold air tingles across my skin, but his gaze devours me and makes me feel more naked than I’ve ever been. He licks his lips, slow and deliberate, like he’s about to feast.
“Come here,” he says, and I can’t say no. I shiftforward, thighs trembling, and lower myself until his nose is pressed just beneath my clit, his mouth right at my entrance.
The first touch is charged. His tongue flicks into me greedily, his nose nudging my most sensitive spot like he wants to inhale me.
“Fuck,” I moan, already losing control.
He doesn’t give me time to adjust, just devours me. His tongue plunges, circles, fucks me with relentless intent. Every time I rock forward, his nose presses hard against my clit, sending shockwaves through my pelvis up my spine. He groans into me, like this is his last meal and he doesn’t want to leave a scrap behind.
I glance at the clock. Five minutes left.
“Adrian,” I pant, “we don’t have time?—”
He snaps his eyes up, locking onto mine, and growls. The vibration hits my core, heightening every throb of pleasure. He digs his fingers into my thighs, spreading me wider. The silk of his hair tickles my inner legs, his mouth working with a need so deep it almost frightens me.
He wants to erase every moment we’ve lost and replace it with this one: me, helpless and trembling over him, my knees threatening to give, my breath ragged and uneven.
Adrian’s focus has never been more ferocious. He eats like a starving animal, and I surrender to the storm, hips rolling against his face, grinding down because—hell—he leaves me no other choice. With each stroke of his tongue, each desperate suck, I unravel more.
Four minutes left.
My body is arching, nerves misfiring as his mouth brings me right to the edge, over and over, but never lets me fall. He’s playing with me, drinking in every whimper and gasp like wine.
Such a dangerous game when we could be discovered.
“Adrian,” I gasp, “let me come, please, please?—”
He answers with a moan that vibrates through my pelvis. His hands snake up, one palm steadying my lower back, the other moving to stroke my stomach. His thumb brushes just below my navel—right where a baby might grow, if I were telling the truth—and something inside me fractures.
He tongues me harder now, relentless, and I break apart for him. My orgasm detonates through my pelvis, white-hot and violent, tearing a scream from my throat that I bite down on to keep from alerting the entire estate. My knees buckle, and I collapse over him, trembling, barely conscious of Adrian’s arms holding me in place as he keeps licking, gentle now, savoring every aftershock.
When the world comes back into focus, he’s still beneath me, breathless and grinning, his lips slick and red. I slide off and collapse on the bed. For a moment, we just breathe together, hearts pounding, bodies tangled.
“That was—” I start, but words fail. I bury my face in his neck, hiding my smile.
