Page 58 of One Rule

But now that my eyes are open, his actions were always possessive. Of ownership, a privilege he gave me in return.

I always had unlimited access to him. To every facet of his life.

“Captain Grumps deserves a reward.”

As if he heard me, that hand still on my hip tightens, sending a tiny lick of pleasure between my legs. We haven’t had sex, but when he slipped the engorged head of his cock inside of me last night, I felt a small bit of stretch. He’s thick and long while I’m small, and even if the way I clench in desperation indicates I want to be ridden hard, I know he’s going to ruin me.

Yet I won’t deny that the thought excites me. He’s going to be my first as I will be his.

It’s a precious privilege that Micah waited for me; I’ve always been what he wants. Knowing that he hungered for me all this time…

“Fuck,papi.I love you.” I whisper against his neck, leaving a series of small kisses down and then across his collarbone. He smells a little like me mixed with that citrusy bourbon, and I find myself aroused by the sweet yet tart scent. It’s us. Ours.

Another minute shift and I’m able to slip a little beneath the covers, his hand at my waist slipping upwards, the pads on his fingers dragging up my side and the outside of my breast until I’m face to semi-hardness. Lips a few inches above the head.

My mouth waters at the sight; he’s perfection in the male form and I can’t help but trace the slit at the top with my tongue. Softly. Feather light.

God,my body thrums at the first taste of him with a little bit of me, and my core clenches; I can’t stop the shiver that crests down my spine nor the way my nipples tighten. They swell and throb, my entire body coming alive as he infiltrates every one of my senses.

His body heat.

His scent.

His salty sweet essence.

I can’t help or stop the groan that slips past my lips, and I do it again. Longer this time, flicking the tip where beads of pre-come pool for me and I lap each one, flushing as his cock hardens to full mast. So hard. It flexes in my grip, and I wrap my lips fully around the head and suck, wanting—needing more of the addictive pearl-like drops.

I can see why women say kneeling for a man is addictive. Almost an art form.

The power it gives you. The rush of endorphins when you hear that first groan from your male before the sheets are ripped off the bed and his hooded eyes meet yours.

This my my nirvana.

Hedonistic bliss.

“Rebel, fuck baby.” His tone is husky. Deeper and warm from sleep. “What—”

“I’m busy, Mr. Royce,” I say around him, but then release him with a pop. I’ve never done this before, but the nerves never show up. I’ve read plenty of romance novels and watched countless hours of porn like most women do, and the act itself is pretty self-explanatory. Yet none of that matters. Loving this man and wanting to give him all of me is instinctual.

A compulsion I follow blinding while dragging the flat of my tongue down the underside to the base and nuzzling the flesh there. His scent is deeper here, concentrated pure Micah and I kiss my way to his balls before sucking the right one into my mouth.

I’m not stroking him, not even holding him in a tight grip. No. This is me worshipping him with my mouth the way he always cares for me.

It’s the little ways. Subtle yet important, going as far as to drink coffee how I do because I’m making it for him.

That’s love. That’s complete adoration.

Why did it take me so long to realize this?

Releasing the one, I take the left and show it the same affection. Softly, I suckle his testicle—licking, nipping, and pulling it into my mouth.

He growls for me at this. The sound is so male, a needy calling that I answer with a moan. I love the taste and feel of him, my hands gripping my breast and squeezing while I work my parted lips up the side and back toward the velvet tip. I’m pinching my nipples as I take him in my mouth, sucking him down about halfway before pulling back to breathe.

“Again. Suck me again.” A guttural command and I follow it, opening my mouth wide while holding my tongue out. I like the feel and weight of him, how soft the tight skin is—I bob my head more, forcing more of his length inside, and choke. My eyes watering, but I don’t pull back. “Motherfuck,Liliana. So good. Your mouth is so warm and eager.”

My response is a hum around his girth. I refuse to release him. Instead, I remember how every romance I’ve read says to relax. To enjoy it and breathe through my nose.

So I do just that, letting my body guide me, and I’m rewarded by another salty sweet drop of pre-come. It is bigger than the others and I reward him by taking him in deeper for the gift.

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