Page 18 of Lock 'em Down

I’m putty in his capable hands. He tests the weight of my breasts, lowers his mouth to my nipples, and gives them more attention than any man has before. Kneading and pinching. Licking and sucking.

He removes his pants and boxers in one shot and I literally gasp at the perfection of his body.

His eyes dart to mine at the sounds that fall from my mouth but there’s no more light humor. Everything has turned serious between us.

He’s my husband. I’m his wife. And tonight is our wedding night.

There aren’t rushed touches. There’s savoring.

There’s no clashing of teeth. There’s tasting and sipping and devouring.

Leif drops to his knees at the side of the bed and tugs my legs, hooking them around his shoulders.

“Oh, God.” I grip the bedsheet in anticipation. I’m already wet for him. Hell, I think I have been since he walked onto that patio rooftop. The nerves in my body are taut, the need seeping out as arousal between my thighs.

“So fucking perfect,” Leif murmurs, dragging the pads of two fingers through my folds.

I groan at his touch. It’s more than good. It’s centering.

He does it again. And again.

His fingers drag across my sex lazily as he studies me. His eyes hold mine and the look in his—so fucking sexy and surprisingly hopeful—is a salve to years of thoughtless, careless flings and silly, pointless one-night stands.

I shift under his gaze. I squirm from his slow touch. And just when I think I can’t take anymore, he lowers his mouth and uses his tongue.

“Leif!” I cry out, tightening my thighs around his head. My hands twist the sheets.

He uses his palms to slide under my ass and lift it. He pulls me closer as his tongue begins to dance across my pussy. He’s a fucking expert. The pace, the pressure, the intensity, it’s too much.

Within seconds, my back arches off the bed. Every nerve ending I have is on fire, flames licking higher, faster, stronger and then—I combust. “Leif, oh God, Leif.” My eyes are closed, my head tossed back.

And my guy? My guy slows his ministrations and helps me ride out the most intense, powerful, all-consuming orgasm of my life. I whimper as I come down and he strokes my inner thighs, his mouth continuing to press kisses across my over-sensitized flesh.

When my thighs loosen their hold, he moves up my body like a freaking panther. Slow, steady, and focused. I open my arms, he falls into them, and the kiss we share should be fucking illegal.

“I’m clean, Cam,” he swears.

“Me too,” I promise. “And I’m on the pill.”

He nods, holding my gaze to make sure.

“I don’t want anything between us,” he says. “Not tonight. But is that what you want?”

Jesus, this man. This man and these words.

“I’m more than good with that.” I widen my legs.

He settles between them on his next kiss; he pushes inside with one thrust. I see fucking stars. Because he’s big, and so fucking hard.

“Hold on to me, baby,” he instructs.

I grip his shoulders before sliding my hands around to his back. Leif begins to rock in and out before he sets a pace that has my thighs quaking and the tendons in his neck stretching.

He’s beautiful. Glorious. I can hardly take my eyes off him.

He works me over so fucking good, I come again. And only after, does he let himself lose control. He pounds into me, shifting from sensual to downright desperate. And then, he breaks apart and it’s beautiful.

“Camille…” my full name on his lips. A shudder rolls through my limbs. The strength of his body seeps out in release, in need, in naked emotions that flit across his face. “Fuck, baby.”

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