Page 151 of Watch Me Burn
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs around the hard bud. “I live for the sound of your pleasure.”
I pull his lips to mine and kiss him like I’m drowning, like he’s the only air I’ll ever need. My mouth opens against his, desperate and hungry, while his fingers trace the curve of my sides, dancing across my stomach. Everywhere except where the ache pulses the strongest. The anticipation builds until I’m trembling beneath him, my skin hypersensitive to every whisper of contact.
I beg him to end my sweet torture. “Please.”
When he enters me, reality shrinks to just our joined bodies, and the rest of existence falls away. The press of his chest against my breasts, his stomach flush with mine—it feels like coming home after years of being lost. His eyes never leave mine as he moves inside me, our bodies finding a rhythm that belongs only to us. This isn’t our usual desperate, clawing need. This is love, worship through touch. He overwhelms every sense. The weight of him pressing me into the mattress, the thick stretch of him inside me, filling places that ached without knowing why.
He’s spent hundreds of hours inside me, but somehow this feels brand new, as if we’re touching for the first time.
“Luna.” He pulls his lips away, groaning my name. “You feel like heaven.”
I wrap my arms and legs around him, urging him deeper. He responds with a low growl that reverberates through both our bodies. We move as one, savoring each sensation, sharing breath between parted lips.
His hands tangle in my hair, and for the first time, he kisses me while we move together, deep, claiming kisses that taste of forever.
His hips shift, finding that perfect spot inside me, and I cry out into the space between our lips. He repeats the motion, and I gasp and arch, my nails digging into the small of his back.
“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
But instead of continuing, he slows, his movements becoming deliberate torture that keeps release just beyond reach. Each stroke builds toward something that never quite arrives, drawing out the pleasure until I’m on the edge of madness.
“Let me.” My fingers dig into his hips, attempting to still his maddening pace. “Let me love you.”
Understanding lights his eyes. He rolls us over, letting me straddle him. He’s never allowed me control before, not even that night on the porch. His struggle plays across his face, jaw clenching and muscles tensing. The instinct to dominate wars with his desire to give me what I want.
“Trust me.” I place my hands flat on his chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath my palms.
I move my hips in slow circles, learning this new position with him, this new dynamic. The power of being above him, of controlling our pace and depth, is intoxicating.
The skin of my inner thighs burns where it meets the coarse hair on his legs. The angle sends sparks shooting into my core, each shift forward bringing pressure where I need it, a friction against my clit that makes my breath catch. His face changes beneath me, his eyes rolling back when my muscles clench around him.
I lean down to taste the salt-slick hollow of his throat. His sharp inhale and full-body shudder tell me everything I need to know about what he needs from me.
“You’re so beautiful.” I echo his words from before.
My hips roll forward, and a sound tears from his throat, deep, broken, and hungry. Candlelight flickers across his face as his mouth falls open, eyes squeezing shut. His jaw goes slack, his features softening as I unravel him piece by piece.
His hands settle on my hips, pressing into the soft flesh but following my movements rather than dictating them. He’s letting me lead, letting me love him the way I’ve longed to. I rock against him in slow waves, each motion pulling another groan from his chest. His fingers tremble against my skin, his hold going slack as I claim him. He lies beneath me, unguarded, open, and surrendering everything, and my breath stutters in my throat.
I lower my body down, resting my weight on him as I kiss him, my hair spilling around us like a silk curtain, blocking out everything but his mouth and mine. Our tongues dance together, following the rhythm of our bodies below. When I sit up again, riding him with increasing confidence, his hands find my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples until I’m gasping his name, ragged and breathless.
Heat coils tighter in my core with each roll of my hips. Pressure builds behind my ribs and in my belly, threatening to tear me apart.
He sits up and pulls me against him until no space exists between us. We move together, our foreheads touching, sharing the same air, breathing each other’s exhales. His chest presses against mine with each breath, our hearts hammering in matched tempo. My fingers dig into his shoulders as his palms slide down my spine, steadying my movements.
This level of connection—I've never had this with another man. It terrifies and thrills me.
“I love you.” This time, it doesn’t sound like a confession torn from his throat. It sounds like the truth. “I love you, Luna.”
“I love you too.” The whisper carries everything I feel, every cell inside me alive with it. “All of you.”
The words seem to crack through his final barrier. His grip tightens on my hips, fingers digging in. Our rhythm turns frantic, chasing release together. When he throbs inside me, my climax rips through me with devastating force. I cling tohim as my body contracts around him, muscles clenching in waves that steal my breath. He shudders beneath me, his mouth finding my neck between gasps. His lips move against my skin like he’s memorizing the taste, the texture, and the way my pulse races under his tongue.
Tremors continue to pulse through us both as he pulls me down with him, our bodies slick with cooling sweat. His fingers comb through my hair as our heartbeats resume their normal pace. He’s still buried inside me, our connection unbroken, and my heart fills with the certainty that this is only the beginning.
He shifts, rolling us carefully onto our sides without separating. His arms tighten around me. I can feel his heart still pounding, gradually slowing to match mine.
“I don’t deserve you.” His breath warms my forehead.
