Page 141 of Unleashed

“Your thong. Sometimes I think you’re the devil in disguise.”

I let out a breathy laugh, but it was cut short when his tongue flicked across my swollen clit. My head snapped back as a loud moan escaped my lips, my grip tightening on his hair. He did it again, sending shockwaves through my body.

“Enough, gorgeous,” I panted, tugging his hair to pull him back.

Michael stood, helping me out of my pants completely before laying me down on the bed. He tore his own clothes off, givingme a full view of his body—his chiseled chest, the hard lines of his muscles, and the impressive length of his cock as he stroked it slowly, precum already pooling at the tip.

“Ohhh,” I moaned softly, biting my lip.

His grin was wicked. “Miss Kincaid, if I remember correctly, you loved to suck me.”

“I did,” I whispered, “and I still do. Let me taste you.”

His smile widened, but he shook his head. “No. Tonight is about you. Spread your legs.”

“Michael—” I started, but he cut me off.

“Don’t argue with me. Spread them. Now.”

A thrill shot through me, heat pooling in my belly as I obeyed, opening my legs for him. He climbed onto the bed, his gaze never leaving mine as he lowered himself between my thighs. His tongue flicked against me, making me gasp as pleasure coursed through my body. He worked me relentlessly, his tongue teasing me to the brink of climax.

Just as I was about to fall over the edge, he pulled back. “Would you like me to fuck you now?” he asked, his voice low, filled with promise.

I blinked, momentarily dazed. His face was inches from mine, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “You’re asking?” I asked, breathless.

“Would you prefer I just take you like a Neanderthal? Fuck you so hard you scream?”

“Yes, please,” I breathed, my pulse racing.

Michael caged my body, his strong arms on either side of me as he positioned himself at my entrance. I could feel the heat of him, the hard length of his cock pressing against me. I wiggled my hips, desperate for more.

“I want you, Morgan. It’s been too long,” he whispered, his lips brushing mine before he slowly pushed inside.

For a moment, everything felt perfect. But then it hit me. “Oh God, Michael, stop.”

His eyes widened in panic as he stilled. “What? What did I do?”

“You’re not wearing a condom.”

“Fuck,” he growled, pulling out quickly. He reached for the nightstand, fumbling to find one. In seconds, he tore open the wrapper and sheathed himself. “Better?”

I nodded, trying to calm my racing thoughts. “Yes. I’m fine. Make love to me.”

Michael slipped back inside me, but the connection wasn’t the same. I wanted him—no, I needed him—to touch me without anything between us. His gaze locked onto mine, his blue eyes dark with desire as he thrust into me, but my mind was elsewhere.

“Morgan,” he rasped, his voice filled with emotion, “I wish you were all mine.”

I closed my eyes, letting his words wash over me as I drowned in the sensation of him. But deep down, I knew the truth—I wasn’t his, and I couldn’t be. Not yet.

"Don’t ruin this," I warned, my voice a quiet plea as I straddled him, feeling the tension crackle between us like a live wire.

"I’m sorry, but I love you with all my heart. Is that so bad to say?" Michael's voice was raw, his ice-blue eyes locked on mine, full of unguarded vulnerability.

I closed my eyes, trying to escape the weight of his words, the guilt clawing at me. I knew this was wrong—what we were doing—but my body betrayed me, craving the connection. Focusing on the sensation of our bodies moving together, I began to adjust my rhythm. The slow rise and fall of my hips were met by his steady thrusts, rolling into me with perfect precision.

"Michael..." I gasped, my body tightening as I teetered on the edge.

He matched my pace effortlessly, his breathing ragged. "God, you feel so good," he growled, gripping my hips as we collided in a fierce rhythm, our shared climax so intense it left me breathless, the sharp pang of pleasure mixed with the ache of knowing this could be the last time.

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