Page 78 of These White Lies
“Your stitches,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I nip at his lower lip, tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “You won’t.” My voice is steady despite the fact I’m trembling with need. “It’s going to hurt a lot worse if you stop.”
There is the slightest flicker in his eyes, and then, almost as if the words ‘fuck it’ detonate in the space between us, his mouth crashes into mine.
I’m lost.
Every coherent thought in my head flees as his mouth drags lower, his stubble gently abrading the sensitive skin of my throat, and his lips suck at the hollow of my throat. Heat and need flush through me.
In one smooth motion, he flips me so that I’m straddling him, my knees on either side of his lean hips. Pulling the robe from my shoulders he guides it down until it pools at the top of my thighs. Brady’s gaze drags over me, the rhythm of his chest rising and falling faster. One hand traces rough fingertips down an invisible line from my chin, down my throat and between my breasts, settling over my stomach in a deliberate sweep, leaving my skin tingling in their wake.
“So incredibly beautiful.” His voice is almost reverent.
Something flares in my chest in a sensation that can only be described as a small volcanic explosion. I slide back rising on my knees as he lifts his hips to help me shove his pants and boxer-briefs out of the way. He’s thick and hard, and I shiver as I push the robe completely off, and drop it next to us. I don’t want any barriers between us.
I rock against him, reveling in the way his eyes roll slightly back. “I have you at my mercy,” I tease.
His eyes fix on mine, heated and full of raw hunger. “Enjoy it. Because once you’re healed, you’re all mine.” The dark promise in his tone sends a shiver racing up my spine.
Brady surges up so we are facing each other, an arm wrapping tight around my back, his palm settling just under myribs. His mouth works down my neck again, in slow and open-mouthed kisses, his teeth tugging at the skin over my pulse.
His free hand slides between my thighs, fingers stroking through the slick heat there, making me whimper, and writhe on his lap.
“You’re shaking,” he says against my collarbone. The hand on my back is steady and strong, keeping me upright so I don’t pull at my stitches. He is supporting my entire weight with his body.
Brady touches me as if I’m precious to him. A feeling so unfamiliar my throat tightens with unexpected emotion, and tears prick at my eyes. He makes me feel safe, protected. Cherished.
Whatever reservations I still hold about letting this man into my heart disappear.
“Baby?”
“Not from pain,” I promise, locking my legs around his waist, my hips rocking desperately forward. “Don’t stop.”
“Wasn’t planning to.” Brady’s mouth dips, nuzzling the swell of my breast, before his lips close over my nipple, tugging gently before pulling the tender peak between his teeth just as his thumb presses down hard on my clit. I thrust against him, feeling the length of him rub against me. Electricity sparks down my spine, and I think I might explode.
It’s not enough. I need more. I need him inside me.
“Please,” I pant, my hips moving frantically against his hand.
Brady pulls back, his breath harsh and reaches blindly for his pants on the bed next to us. Without moving the arm supporting me, he finds a condom in his wallet, and rips the foil with his teeth, rolling it on one-handed.
It’s absurdly hot.
Brady’s free hand hooks under my thigh, pulling me closer until the thick heat of him is poised right where I need him. My hips roll on instinct, a primal demand to take him inside me.
His mouth claims my breast again, teasing until I’m gasping, while his other hand slides down my belly.
“You’re soaked, Firefly.” He groans and thrusts two fingers inside me while his thumb continues to draw maddening circles over my clit. I cry out, grinding into his palm.
“That’s it, baby,” he breathes against my mouth. “Take what you need.”
I do, moving harder against him, not recognizing the frantic, needy cries leaving my mouth. His lips cover mine, swallowing my sounds as my orgasm crashes over me. Brady’s lips and fingers continue moving as pleasure spills through me in waves prolonging the delicious sensations.
I press my forehead against him, desperately trying to catch my breath, when his hand leaves my thighs and grips my ass, lifting me.
“I’ll be careful.” Brady voice is frayed, like he’s barely hanging on. “Tell me if anything hurts.”
“I will.” I suck in a shuddery breath. I might pay for the pleasure later, but right now—endorphins flooding my bloodstream—I feel invincible.
