Page 67 of Sins of the Father

“Please,” I plead. “I need...oh God... Steven, please.”

A slow-moving wave of adrenaline curls my toes and flows up my body. I tremble, and he flicks his tongue on my clit so fast, I scream.

When I slow, he gets on his knees, pulls me up under my arms, and flips me over. He moves one leg at a time until they hit the headboard.

His hands slide between my legs, and he widens me until air hits my sex.

Hot breath hits my collarbone, and the smell of my orgasm mixes with his scent, filling the air. “Do you want more?”

“Yes,” I whimper.

“Do you trust me?” He lightly bites my shoulder.

“Yes,” I cry out.

“Tell me to stop or if it gets to be too much.”

“Okay.” I shakily breathe, unsure what he’s going to do but wanting anything he’ll give me and to only be his.

One of his hands grasps my wrists, and he holds them to the side of his body. His other hand fists my hair. He tugs it back so the nape of my neck is against his shoulder, and we’re cheek to cheek.

“Sink on me.”

I obey, sliding on him in one move, and he groans in my ear.

“Oh God,” I cry out, the girth and length of his cock rippling on my walls and filling me.

His fingers dig into my wrists, and he holds them taut. He releases my hair, gliding his fingers over my shoulder and under my chin. His lips flutter on my cheekbone. “You’re perfection.”

I circle my hips on him in tiny movements, not able to move anymore between the headboard and him but aching to feel the slippery friction between us and quivering on every inch of his glorious erection.

“Harper,” his deep voice growls in my ear.

His body encloses around me, and I feel safe and protected. He begins to thrust, matching mine, and creating an earthquake of tremors inside me.

“Steven... I...oh...”

He slides his thumb over my lips and his index finger glides in my mouth, and I suck hard on it.

Spikes of pleasure rip through my core, unraveling my every sense. Every time I think it’s over, another one tears through me. And there’s nowhere to go. I scratch the side of his thigh, my hands flailing to grip something, anything, but he keeps them restrained. My back arches but barely; he has me sandwiched too close to the headboard.

“Steven,” I cry out as another tremor hits me.

“Just feel beautiful,” he murmurs, and his tongue traces the edge of my diamond stud earring.

My eyes roll and more sweat breaks out.

He never releases the pressure on my chin but turns my head slightly and murmurs against my lips, “I love how real and raw you are.” Then his hot mouth muffles my moans with an all-consuming kiss.

And a man has never sexually fulfilled me or spoken to me in the bedroom the way he does. It’s so overpowering, a tear drips down my cheek.

He kisses it. It’s tender and sweet, and another one falls.

And when I cry out his name again, he reaches his peak. He groans loud and longer than the first time he came, and his cock swells inside me, pumping hard.

He doesn’t release my wrists for several moments, and when he does, he keeps his body against mine. His face and body drip with sweat. His chest rises and falls against my back, and his heart pounds against my shoulder.

He finally lets go of my arms, massaging them up to my neck, then lifts his head and finds my mouth. And it’s as if he didn’t just have me. As if he can’t get enough of me, and somehow, I mean something to him.

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