Page 95 of Heartless
I’ve died and gone to heaven. I’m sure of it. Because the way Cade wields his tongue is out of this world. He licks me. He sucks me. Hebitesme. And then he makes me thank him for it.
He’s reduced me to a puddle of hormones on the floor. Or as the case may be, on my bed, while he kneels on the ground and makes a meal out of me with one rough hand splayed against my inner thigh possessively as he slowly works two fingers into my pussy. I squirm and chant, “Cade,” like I’m in some sort of hot-single-dad-loving cult.
I’d be the leader of that cult.For sure.
“That’s it, baby, wide open for me. Are you clenching, Willa?”
“I don’t know,” I breathe out stupidly before leaning up on my elbows to look down at him. He’s all dark and foreboding, his lips glistening with, well,me. “I’m pretty sure I’m having an out-of-body experience.”
“Relax. I’m going to take care of you.” His thumb strokes along the tendons at the top of my upper thigh, making my head fall back on a sigh, my entire body relaxing as I do.
His fingers slide home and I gasp when they curl up into the best spot. No man should be able to find a clit through jeansandthe g-spot in one night.
But the one kneeling between my legs can.
“So fucking tight.” His fingers work in and out, and when I glance down at him, his gaze worships between my legs. I feel myself stretching as his fingers twist and scissor. “So fucking wet.” His coal eyes move up, roaming my body hungrily, appreciating every dip and curve. “I’ve never seen such a pretty pussy in my life, Willa.”
Admittedly, I’ve never wondered much about the way my pussy looks. It’s always served its purpose just fine. She’s been a real champ, if you ask me. But Ipreenunder that compliment from Cade. He’s older. More experienced. If he says it’s pretty, well, who am I to disagree?
I lick my lips as I stare down at him. “Thank you.” The words come easier every time. The expression of satisfaction on his face is my reward. At first I was a bit fired up over it, but satisfying Cade—seeing that expression on his face—it’s quickly becoming a favorite pastime of mine.
“Good girl,” he hums, touching my body so reverently that I squirm. He doesn’t rush, he doesn’t slam into me. His movements are languid as he wrings every ounce of pleasure from every corner of my body, and I’ve felt nothing like it before. “Now you’re going to come for me, baby.”
The way his fingers move, his intense stare while he plays with my pretty pussy—his words, not mine—causes everything to build. The sensations. The way the shadows play across his handsome face and chiseled shoulders. The way they flex when he moves his arm. The feel of his fingertips pushing into the soft flesh of my leg.
The sudden way he’s sucking at my clit while lazily pushing his fingers into me. He’s got the whole movement down pat. The curling and pressing rhythm. He plays my body like it’s an instrument he knows inside and out.
And when the pressure winds through my hip, wrapping around the base of my spine, I grip his head and pull his face tight against my pussy, grinding against him as I topple.
“Cade!” I call out, just like I promised him I would, as I come apart. Legs shaking. Toes curling. The arches of my feet cramp, and his movements just continue. He doesn’t stop too soon, like so many men do. He’s not eager to be done with the foreplay. This isn’t a chore for him, and I think that might be the sexiest thing about it.
I smile up at the smooth white ceiling, cast in a golden tone from the glow of the lamp, and feel my limbs go soft. And with that rush of pleasure comes a rush of protectiveness. A rush of rage that someone could wound him so profoundly. That someone could stray the way his ex did.
The resistance. The jealousy. The longing looks. The solitary way he lives his life. It all makes so much more sense now.
And I have every intention of showing him how badly I wanthim.
Pushing myself up, I rake my fingers through his hair, feeling his heavy breathing against my damp skin as I cup my hands around the base of his skull and pull his head up to mine. I link my eyes with his, staring hard into them as my thumbs stroke through the stubble along his chiseled cheeks.
“Thank you,” I say simply.
And then I kiss him. I can taste myself on him, but I don’t care. All I care about is that he knows I appreciate him. Our tongues tangle and his calloused palms dance over my ribs, somehow making me shiver and my core stir, even though I just finished.
Correction: even though he just finished me.
“That was the best orgasm of my life,” I murmur against his wet lips, drawing a chuckle from his chest. “Now lose the pants and lie back on the bed. I want to repay the favor.”
His lips trail against my cheek. “You think you’re in charge now, Willa? That’s adorable.”
“Lose the pants, mister.” I use a fake authoritative voice and return his kisses all the way over his stubbled cheek to his ear, where I nip playfully at the lobe.
He huffs out a breath but pushes to stand, fingers working expertly at his jeans, corded forearms rippling. I absently wonder why I was so hung up on his grumpy face when he has a body like this and a sweet, authoritative, doting personality. What the hell was I even on about? I can’t remember.
“What are you thinking about right now?” he asks as he shucks his jeans down, impressive cock tenting his underwear. I almost forgot how big it is and that I choked like an amateur when he thrusted hard into my mouth.
“How hot you are. How insane your body is. How sweet you are.” When I rip my eyes away from his cock, his eyebrow arches at me as I add, “I think the words you’re searching for are,Thank you, baby.”
He pulls his boxers down with a smirk, clearly not self-conscious about his body. “You like it when I call you baby?”
