Delicate Us

Chapter 8

Syler

Syler had her legs wrapped around Trace's middle, hands on either side of his face, pulling him in harder for a kiss as he barged through the front door of his house and closed it behind him with his foot.

He walked her down the front entrance hall, into the kitchen, and placed her on the center island.

"Take off your black and white clothes, now. You're offending me."

Syler scrambled her shirt off with his help as she laughed. Though she wasn't sure he thought it was funny after she tossed her shirt on the floor without a word. His eyes scanned down her, over her black-laced bra, and her body came alive, long blonde tresses cascading over her shoulders. He stepped forward, hands rushing into her hair as he tangled his lips with hers then sucked on the bottom one.

Their breaths grew heavier, their kiss deepened, tongues dancing, tasting.

He grabbed her by the bottom and scooted her off the counter when her legs wrapped around his waist again.

"Take the rest off when we get upstairs."

Being in the safety of Trace's arms felt right—like home. And being under his gaze and protection finally settled that consistent anxiousness she had had to endure since her first single dropped and collected over a one hundred million views.

He marched her up the steps, to the right, and into his room where he laid her on the bed, never letting his lips let up from hers. The scent of lemon mixed with an undertone of ginger fled her senses and encircled her body. A spiral of pleasure rushed up her core like a rocket desperate for the sky.

Syler glided her hands under his shirt, the defined muscles of his back tensing with every movement he made. She grabbed the hem and pulled it over his head so that his warm, olive skin was pressed against her. With fast hands, she unbuttoned her white pants to loosen them enough for him to yank them off, her undies going with them.

That was when a new groan escaped him as he leaned over her, elbows resting above her shoulders, head leaning in for another kiss. He made a trail of kisses down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. Down still through the valley between her breasts, her bellybutton and finally at the apex of her legs. At his first lick through her sensitive folds, her back arched with an insatiable gasp entering her system.

Strong hands curled around her upper thigh as he brought her closer to his mouth, lapping against her like a promise that she would always be a priority to him in every sense of the word.

Pressure. Heat. Wet.

When his tongue plunged into her, she yelped in a haze of lust. "Trace."

At the sound of his name, he paused, withdrawing his tongue, and it maddened her. "Say my name again."

"Trace!" she warned.

He gave a deep chuckle, then slowly pushed a long finger deep inside her that curled and coaxed a desperate need of desire out of her.

"Trace."

Another finger entered her as he kissed back up her body to her lips, where she spilled a series of moans into his mouth.

Every twitch of his hand, pressure of his thumb against her, pushed her closer to the edge. And when he let up to whisper, "You are so beautiful," she fell. Chasing her release came in spasms and bursts of color and a blur of heavy breathing that took the shape of Trace in her soul.

He pulled away to take off his bottoms and everything under it, freeing himself while he opened the top drawer to his nightstand and took out a condom. After rolling it on, his eyes set on hers like a hungry predator, and she was happy to be his prey.