Page 27 of Decked By The Grumpy Golem
The words seem to break the last of his restraint. His mouth crashes against mine as his hands help me push my jeans down my legs, along with the scrap of lace that passes for underwear. When I'm completelynaked before him, he steps back to look at me, his gray eyes drinking in every inch of exposed skin.
"Perfect," he breathes, and the reverence in his voice makes tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "You're absolutely perfect."
He's still wearing his jeans, and the unfairness of it makes me bold. I reach for his belt buckle, my fingers fumbling with the leather and metal. He helps me, his movements quick and efficient, until he's standing before me naked and magnificent and burning with inner fire.
I've seen him naked before, but I was eighteen then, overwhelmed and nervous and focused more on how I was feeling than on really looking at him. Now I take my time, letting my gaze travel over the broad planes of his chest, the line of his hips, the impressive length of his arousal.
He’s big all right. Much bigger than any other man I ever had, his cock girthy and long, pointing right at me. His balls hang heavy, as hairless as the rest of him, large and round against his muscular thighs. He’s a sculpture of a man, powerful and raw.
It should scare me, yet it just makes more wetness spill between my lips and drip down my thighs.
"I want to feast on you," he says, his voice rough with need. He moves me backward until my legs hit the edge of the mattress, then guides me down onto the soft surface. "I want to hear you scream my name as you come in my mouth."
The words send even more liquid heat pooling between my thighs. I watch as he kneels on the floor between my legs, his large hands spanning my thighs as he positions me exactly where he wants me.His eyes meet mine, dark with hunger and something that looks like worship.
"I've been starving for you for ten years," he tells me, his breath hot against my inner thigh. "I don’t think I can ever be sated."
I can only nod, my voice stolen by the intensity of his gaze. He leans forward and runs his tongue along my slit in one slow, deliberate stroke that makes me cry out and arch off the bed.
"Fuck," he groans against my flesh. "You taste like heaven."
He sets to work then, his tongue and lips exploring every fold and hollow with the same careful attention he brings to everything else. He finds my clit and circles it with the tip of his tongue until I'm panting and writhing beneath him, my hands fisted in the sheets.
"More," I gasp, my hips lifting toward his mouth. "Please, I need more."
He responds by sliding one thick finger inside me, then two, stretching and filling me while his mouth continues its relentless assault on my clit. The dual sensation is overwhelming, building pressure in my core until I feel like I might shatter from the intensity of it.
"Come for me," he commands against my flesh, his fingers curling inside me to hit that perfect spot. "I want to feel you fall apart."
The combination of his words and his touch sends me over the edge. I come with a cry that echoes off the stone walls, my body convulsing around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash over me. He doesn't stop until I'm boneless and gasping, completely wrung out from the intensity of my release.
When I finally catch my breath, I find him watching me with an expression of fierce satisfaction and barely leashed hunger.
"I'm done fighting this," he says, his voice rough with desire and something deeper. "I want you, Lucia. If you'll have me."
I reach for him, pulling him up and over me until his weight settles between my thighs. The tip of his hot, hard cock presses right at my entrance and he watches me like he’s waiting for me to say something.
"This is exactly what I want," I tell him, meaning every word. "You're exactly what I want."
Chapter Twelve
Gideon
Thesensationofherbeneath me, of her warm, soft, yielding body threatens to overwhelm every rational thought I have left. After years of dreaming about this moment, the reality is so much more intense than anything my imagination conjured. Her skin is cool against mine, flushed and perfect. The taste of her pleasure lingers on my tongue, making my already boiling body even hotter.
This is really happening. She's here. She's mine.
My body trembles with the effort of holding back as I position myself at her entrance. The heat radiating from my skin hasturned the air around us into a shimmering haze, and sweat beads on her forehead despite the December cold outside. Every golem instinct I have screams at me to claim her, to bury myself deep inside her and never let her go.
But what if I hurt her?
The memory of our first time, of how young we were, how overwhelmed, holds me frozen. I remember the way she winced, the tears in her eyes that she tried to hide. I was so focused on my own desperate need that I didn't take enough care with her. I won't make that mistake again.
I can't bear to cause her pain. Not again.
"Gideon," she whispers, her hands framing my face. "What's wrong?"
I close my eyes, pressing my forehead against hers. "I hurt you before. That first time, there was blood, and I—" My voice cracks with the memory. "I don't want to hurt you again."
