You still weren’t certain how he talked you into it. Probably because there wasn’t a whole lot of talking involved. He was all sly looks and subtle touches, priming you throughout the hunt until you were practically sprinting back to your motel room for some much needed self-release.
Imagine your surprise when you found him waiting just inside.
You still hadn’t made it more than a few steps in. There you were, leaning heavily against the door, stripped from the waist down with an enthusiastic archangel between your thighs. His technique was amazing, though you expected no less from someone with centuries to perfect it. What was really making you weak in the knees was the latest addition to his look.
“What is that on your face?” You didn’t mean to sound rude, but, really? He was going to show up with that and expect you to accomplish anything?
“Like it?” He struck a pose, trailing the back of his fingers along his jaw.
It had been your undoing. All those nights of careful dancing, of volleying back his flirtations and using every ounce of self-restraint, shattered by a well-trimmed beard.
“Oh fuck.” Your legs wobbled, exhaustion and a heady rush of desire nearly taking you to the floor. You latched onto the doorknob, simultaneously bracing yourself on his shoulder.
“Let go, sugar,” he murmured, his grace sweeping around your backside. “I got you.”
You didn’t have much of a choice. Worn muscles gave a final aching flair, unable to bear your weight any longer as his mouth latched back onto your clit and did something that defied reality. As promised, you didn’t end up on your ass. You simply dropped a few inches before being caught by something that reminded you of a warm blanket.
He ran his hands up your calves before grabbing you by the back of your knees and lifting your legs over his shoulders. They continued up your thighs, cresting over the curves of your backside. He indulged himself in a handful before easing you forward, cheek scraping along your inner thigh as he teased away from your sex.
You wriggled, enjoying every moment as he drew it out, the fire in your stomach igniting with every rub of his chin.
Cocky ass. You knew half the reason he did it was so he couldn’t be put in the one and done category. You’d have no choice but to remember him with the burn he was leaving.
It made you wonder what else he might do to ensure you thought of him the next day.
You carded your fingers through his curls, hips arching forward, seeking friction elsewhere again.
“Someone is nee-dy,” he chuckled.
He ran his tongue along your slit, and the way his fingers followed pulled a mew from your mouth. He sank one into you, your head dropping back against the door as he moaned against you.
“Father, you are soaked,” he breathed. “Mmmm, and so fucking warm.” You whined as he withdrew from you, his hands moving to steady your hips. A devious gleam overtook gold. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. I have big plans for you, and they start with undoing you with my mouth.”
You sucked in air as he traced his tongue along your folds.
“Then again with my hands.”
He kissed along your mound, intentionally ignoring that nexus of nerve endings you so desperately needed him to touch again.
“I think the third I’ll try both.”
His mouth landed chastely on your clit and you could have screamed when it was only enough to create a small spark of pleasure.
