Page 47 of Unforeseen Love

“You can play all you like when we’re back in the flat. Let’s move,” he says in a commanding tone, twirling his finger in the air.

Any other time, I’d want to punch him for talking to me like that, but when we’re like this, I find myself wanting––no, needing to please him.

“Leave your lid, we’ll get it in the morning,” he says, reaching for my hand as he tugs me along beside him, his fingers intertwined with mine.

He doesn’t even let go when we get the entrance of the flat and he unlocks the door, pushing it open and ushering me inside first, worried I’ll do a runner. He doesn’t need to be concerned, my legs already feel like melted ice cream. In fact, I think I’m running on pure adrenaline at the moment.

Pushing me against the wall in the small hallway, he crouches down and lifts my ankle, and I realise he wants to take off my boot.

Holy fucking moly.

He tugs them until my feet are free and then swiftly removes his before his fingers are at the zip of my coat, pulling it down in one precise movement.

Reaching out, I unzip his, only my hands are slightly shaking from the grip I had on my bike saddle, no doubt. I half expect a teasing comment, but when I glance up, he’s watching me with something akin to awe, and there I go again, feeling raw and completely exposed to him.

He grabs my jaw in his hand, holding my face firmly.

“It’s okay,” he says, as though he knows I’m having an internal battle of wills.

Coats off, he leads me towards my bedroom, and I find myself raising my eyebrows.

“Your bed is more comfortable,” he says.

I pause and tug on his hand.

“I knew it, I smelt you on my duvet, what the f––” He cuts me off, his mouth crashing against mine in a searing kiss, until I forget what it was I was even saying.

And before I can blink, he has me laying down on my bed.

His hands go to the hem of my jeans and thong as he pulls them lower. I sit up on my elbows and notice how careful he is when he gets to my knee.

“Looks like the bleeding has stopped,” he says almost to himself as he pulls my jeans off.

He does the same with each of my socks, and I suddenly feel self-conscious. I’ve never liked my feet, but he kisses the arch of each foot before trailing kisses along my legs and up my thighs. Reaching my jumper, he pushes it up, exposing my stomach, and his eyes flick to mine.

“Pretty,” he says, his attention going back to my tattoo. It’s a hummingbird hovering over a flower, just to the right of my stomach, above my pelvic bone.

He kisses it once.

“Going to need you naked.” His voice is so deep and full of promise.

Sitting forward, I tug my jumper up and over my head and drop it over the edge of the bed as his eyes rake over my black lacy bra.

He licks his lips and quickly gets to his feet, stripping out of his clothes faster than I can blink.

And bloody hell, what a sight to behold. I’ve never particularly found the male appendage to be nice to look at, but he is oh-so-handsome. His erection stands to attention at least seven inches, and that piercing is captivating. Like a magpie, I hone in on the silver sparkle and get to my knees.

It’s a circular barbell, a horseshoe shape with beads on both ends.

Without thinking, I lower my face and lightly lick the tip.

“Fuck,” he moans through his teeth.

I glance up and find him laser focused on what I’m about to do. I don’t even care that he was inside me less than ten minutes ago, I need to taste him.

Kissing his engorged head, I slowly move down to the underside of his cock with the tip of my tongue and then move up and down the length of his shaft, peppering it with light, gentle kisses before licking the rest. I love getting to familiarise myself with his size, the way he tastes, the texture of his skin, and it’s intoxicating.

His breathing grows louder and his hands have moved to my hair, his fingers digging into my scalp.

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