Page 48 of Broken-Hearted

And when he fists his hand in my hair and tries to keep me there, I don’t let him. I break away to kiss his jaw. His throat. His chest.

Nathan keeps a hand in my hair, his eyes glued to my face as I kiss a steady, and very deliberate path down his body, like he’s afraid to blink and miss even a second of what I’m doing to him.

I stop short though, wanting to torment him a little first.

“Clara?”

“Hmm?”

“Quit playing with my belly button and do what you’re down there to do.”

I lift my head and scowl at him. “That sounds an awful lot like entitlement coming out of your mouth, Blackshaw.”

I kiss his belly button again.

He groans. “Clara…”

“What?” I stick my tongue in his belly button.

He laughs and tugs my hair. “What in the hell, woman…”

He’s grinning down at me, one hand in my hair still, as I lower my head and do exactly what I kissed my way down his body to do.

I part my mouth, and, holding his gaze, I keep a tight seal as I slide my mouth down him, taking him deep.

“Fuck.” His eyes roll back, breath hisses out between his clenched teeth, and his fingers tighten in my hair. I do exactly what I intended to do. I play with Nathan as he thrusts, groans, and thrusts again.

My name is a groan on his lips. Then a growl. Then a plea.

I answer that plea with a longer suck, holding my breath as I bob my head until the tip of him touches the back of my throat.

Nathan has both hands in my hair, groaning as his hips lift off the bed. He holds himself there for a second, then he pulls away.

He puts me exactly where he wants me, on my knees, ass up, and covers my body with his. Using one thigh to nudge my legs open, he mounts me, and some secret part of me loves the way it feels when he does it.

He wraps an arm around my middle and thrusts inside me. One stroke opens me up completely. I hadn’t realized I was so wet, but he slides right into the hilt, making us both moan.

Pressing my face into the bed, I grip the pillow with both hands as he drives into me like there’s no way he’ll ever get as deep as he wants to go, but he’s determined to try.

I stop caring about this being a onetime thing.

I stop thinking about ever leaving this cabin ever again.

All I can do is cling to my pillow, using it to muffle my moans, then my scream as Nathan drives me into one orgasm, gives me a few seconds to recover, then starts thrusting again.

A couple of hours later, Nathan pats my ass and squeezes. “Up, woman. Time for that romance I promised you.”

I lift my face off the bed and glare at him. “If that was the start of your romance, you’ve failed already. Starting with an ass grab flunked you. There’s no coming back from it.”

And I lie back down.

His hand strokes down my back and rests on my spine. “Clara Vincent?”

“Hmmm,” I hum, enjoying his caress far more than I should have.

“Your breakfast is getting cold.”

Breakfast?

---