Page 85 of Reckless
He nods as he leans forward and drags his tongue over the length of my pussy. A deep, satisfied, “Mmm,” crests his lips. “I hope they do, Winter. I hope we have a whole fucking audience to watch how hard I’m going to make you come.”
My heart beats so fast I swear I can feel my sternum vibrating. Why does that sound so good? Why is this man so feral in so many ways? And then so fucking sweet? I can’t keep up with it.
There’s nothing polite or clinical about the way he lifts my legs and props one foot on each of his shoulders. “The only way I’m not eating this pussy is if you tell me to stop, Winter.”
I stare at him. Pulse thrumming. Chest heaving. Lips parted.
And I don’t say a single thing.
I nod.
And just like all those months ago, he grins against my core and then latches on like he needs me more than the air he breathes.
There are no tentative tongue strokes, no holding back. He devours me, and the edges of my vision go blurry. My hands reach above my head, gripping the bench to hold myself back.
Theo suffers from no such concern. His hands roam all over my body. Stroking. Squeezing. He doesn’t hold back with me. Doesn’t treat me like I’m breakable, or like I need breaking.
He treats me like I’m perfect. Irresistible.Worthy.
With one hand clamped around my shaking thigh, he brings the other to my center and guides two fingers into me with an aching slowness. His tongue makes unhurried swipes at my clit, like he has nowhere else to be. Like his mind isn’t in a million other places.
I’m anticipating the slow stretch, the fullness that drives me wild. The patient kisses he presses to my thighs, to my stomach.
“Fuck, Theo.”
“How does that feel, Winter?”
I respond with a whimpery hum as I dig my fingers into the tacky seat. I’m holding on for dear life, like I’m on the precipice of something that terrifies me. My brain is too full, my heart too confused. All this sensation muddles me. It pulls me apart until I’m just a puddle for Theo to play with.
His fingers drag out and I can feel my wetness as he spreads it over my lips. “Not good enough?” he murmurs. “Guess I need to step up my game.”
My back arches and I cry out as he pushes back in with a third finger, or a fourth. I don’t even know, and I’m not about to look. All I know is it feels like a lot.
“How does it feel now?”
“So fucking good.” The words rush from my lips. “Don’t stop.”
I hear his pleased growl but keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling beams and the hanging industrial lights. Making eye contact with him right now might make me combust.
“How could I stop when I’m loving the way you look with my fingers stuffed inside you?”
Heat scorches my cheeks, and my hips buck toward him. Involuntarily. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
My brain has left the building. It’s only my body now. And my body wants Theo Silva. I give in and let go of the bench, reaching for him. My fingers tangle in his thick hair.
And just like before, my body lights up for him. I grind into his mouth, and he meets my thrusts with equal fervor.
He spears me with his tongue, fucks me with his fingers, and takes the odd bite of my oversensitive flesh any time I get close to tipping over the edge. My body soars when he takes a long, firm pull on my clit while shoving his fingers into me roughly.
“Theo.” I tug his hair. “Theo, I’m going to come.”
He pulls back for a beat, and I finally meet his dark, wild eyes, full of lust. “Nah. You don’t come, remember?”
He looks sosmug.
“Keep going.” I ignore his jab, whining and trying to pull his face down. Acting as desperate as I feel.
“Admit it.” His fingers move again.
