Page 65 of Unleashed
I’m trembling, soaked, nails clawing the sheets, needing him there, needing him inside me, needing everything. Lust owns me, body and soul, and I’m seconds away from begging.
But instead of tearing the panties off, instead of giving me what I’m starving for, he moves upward—lips dragging, tongue flicking—until he reaches the swell of my belly.
The shift breaks me open in another way entirely.
His mouth softens, reverent, pressing kisses to the curve, one after another, slow and lingering. His big hands cup around me, holding me as though I’m holy, his lips worshipping the proof of what we’ve made together.
“Mine,” he murmurs against my skin. Another kiss. And another. “This. You. Him. Her. Whatever’s in here—it’s all mine. All ours.”
Tears burn, the tenderness of it too much, too good, too devastating, and my thighs press together, slick and aching, my heart tearing itself in half with love and need.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, too, baby girl. You have no fucking idea.” Gently, he lays his head on the curve where our baby grows, closes his eyes, and just breathes. It’s powerful and heartbreaking all at once, and I can’t fight the tears as I weave my fingers through his pitch black hair, the strands thick and soft.
“I don’t know how to live without you,” he murmurs. “Without you, my heart doesn’t beat.”
A tear rolls down the side of my face, and I bite my bottom lip to keep myself from sobbing. “Neither does mine.”
He sucks in a breath, then places a kiss next to my navel, his hands brushing whisper-soft across my skin, igniting a flame that burns deep. Tender lips stroke downward…down…anticipation fiercely blooming.
“Isaia, I need you.” My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging, pleading. “Don’t tease me.”
“Teasing?” His tongue drags low across my stomach, velvety, wet. “No, baby. This is worship. This is me remembering that I’m not just your husband—I’m the man who fucking made you swell with my child.”
My breath hitches hard, hips rocking despite his hold, the ache now unbearable.
“Say it,” he growls, teeth grazing the band of my panties. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, shuddering so hard my bones quake. My nails scrape his scalp, tugging his hair. “Always yours. Always.”
“Good girl.” His lips curl against my skin, satisfied, wicked. In a blur, he hooks his fingers under the elastic of my panties and drags them down my thighs, slow enough to make me sob. The cotton sticks to my wetness before peeling away, and his groan reverberates through the dimly lit room.
“Fuck. Look at you.” His fingers part me, slick on his skin as he spreads me open. “Dripping like this pussy remembers who owns it.”
Heat sears my face, but shame doesn’t exist here—not with him. Not when my hips roll shamelessly toward his mouth. “Isaia, please.”
“You begging already?” His tongue flicks once, so fast, so deliberate, I jerk like I’ve been shocked. “I’ve barely touched you.”
“I can’t—” My voice shreds as he drags his tongue from the bottom of my slit to the top, slow and thorough, ending with aharsh suck to my clit that rips a cry from my throat. “—fuck, I can’t take it.”
“Yes, you can.” His hands tighten, bruising, keeping me wide. “You’ll take everything I give you.” Another lap of his tongue…another, each swipe more confident, more demanding, until my legs are quivering, my head thrown back into the pillow, my world reduced to the hot, relentless pressure of his mouth on me.
“Even if it takes me all night.”
“Isaia—oh, God—” My voice breaks, high and wild, my hips straining against his iron grip.
He pulls back just enough to speak. “Look at you. Legs shaking, pussy slicked up, all for me. You love it, don’t you? Love when I drag it out. Love when I keep you aching, desperate, so fucking needy you’ll beg me to let you come.”
“Yes,” I gasp, tears pricking as my body begs for release.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, tongue slashing over my clit once more, sharp, brutal. I cry out, body convulsing, but he pulls back again, licking his lips like he’s savoring me. “You’re fucking beautiful, Everly. My perfect little mess.”
And then he devours me.
Tongue. Lips. Teeth. Savage and relentless, obscene sounds filling the dark as he eats me like he’s starved. Every time I climb, every time I teeter at the edge, he pulls back—swiping his tongue lazily, blowing cool air against my swollen clit—just to watch me writhe.
“You wanna come for me, baby girl?” His voice is filth and gravel, hovering just out of reach. “Wanna soak my tongue, let me drink what’s mine?”
