Page 221 of His To Erase
I reach for the zipper of his hoodie and my fingers tremble as I drag the zipper down, inch by inch, exposing the inked lines of his chest and the sharp cut of muscle beneath. He doesn’t move, he just stands there and lets me.
His hand leaves my throat, only to slide to the back of my neck. His fingers thread through my hair, tugging just enough to make me tilt my chin up for him. The other glides up my stomach. When he closes over my breast, I hiss—but I don't pull away. I lean into it, because that’s what he does to me.
“You know what I see when I look at you like this?” he murmurs.
“A girl with questionable taste?” I breathe.
His thumb rolls over my nipple, slow and punishing. “I see someone who likes being owned.” He dips his head, mouth brushing my ear. “And I haven’t even started.”
My knees threaten to give out, but I hold his gaze like I’m not falling apart.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Are you asking for permission now?” I shoot back.
His grip tightens, and he smirks. “Nah. Just giving you the chance to say thank you before I ruin you.”
His eyes drop to my nipples, and that smirk—the dark, dangerous one—spreads slow across his mouth.
“Fuck, look at you,” he says. “You love to act like you’re in charge… until my hands are on you.”
His hands slide up my sides, and I shiver—every inch of me strung tight with anticipation.
Then he’s gone. Just for a second.
The shower knob turns behind me, and the sound alone sends heat flooding back through my body.
Steam starts to rise, curling around us, and I don’t realize he’s already moving again until I turn—and see him stepping back, fingers hooked in the waistband of his sweats. He drags them down without a word, and fuck—he’s all muscle, all heat, all mine.
Oh. My. God.
Everything in me stops—thoughts, breath, pride. Gone.
He’s naked.
It shouldn’t hit this hard, but lord—he is gloriously, savagely naked. All hard lines and ink and muscle—sculpted by the Gods themselves. I’m pretty sure I’m drooling.
The second I step into the shower, the heat slams into me—coating my skin, making it impossible to tell if I’m sweating or already soaked for him again.
He leans in, skimming my collarbone with his mouth, and slowly trails lower. That grin he gives me, feels like a promise as he sinks to his knees in front of me, gripping my hips like he owns them. His tongue flicks out, licking a slow, devastating stripe from my navel to the underside of my breast, and I gasp—sharp and wrecked.
He doesn’t stop. Not until I’m breathless and shaking, thighs sticky with want. Again.
His hands roam everywhere—up the backs of my thighs, over the curve of my ass, fingers spreading as he grabs me like he’s staking a claim.
When he shifts forward and lifts one of my legs over his shoulder, I swear I black out for half a second. It’s too much. Too good. Too filthy. And I want every goddamn second of it.
His hands glide between my legs, fingers slipping through my folds like he’s memorized the exact way to make me fall apart. The second his thumb brushes over my clit, I jolt—twitching against his mouth as the hot water rains down over us. My hand flies to his shoulder—partly to keep from slipping, and partly because I just need to touch him.
Water pours over my back as the steam curls around us, and I swear I can feel myself dripping down my thigh. When he slides two fingers into me, curling them just right, and I gasp, grinding down on his hand.
“Still think you’re in control?” he growls.
I shake my head, too far gone to speak. As much as I love pushing his buttons, tonight’s not the night.
“I could keep you like this,” he rasps near my pussy. “On your knees. On your back. Doesn’t matter—as long as you remember who this fucking body belongs to.”
I nod, still grinding. Still chasing that edge and I don’t care what it costs me.
