Page 145 of Texting Dr. Stalker

I had just enough brain cells to grunt against her lips, “Tell me to stop, and I stop.”

With a savage little cry, she scratched her fingernails over my scalp and jerked me back to her mouth again. Her legs flopped wide in blatant invitation, the tightness of her shorts trying to cut off the circulation to my hand as I added a second finger and rode her.

I didn’t go slow like last time.

I’d learned what she liked.

I’d gone to school in the dark of her bedroom and understood that a girl like Sailor—a girl who’d been hurt and lived alone and spent most of her life being responsible for her own well-being—couldn’t find pleasure if she had time to think about it.

Her worries had snuck in that night. Her whirling mind had been loud enough for me to hear her fears of what she should and shouldn’t do. How she should behave versus letting go.

Milton had tried to kill everything about this woman from her strength to her self-worth, and I had no intention of letting her second-guess her own power.

Kissing her as hard as I could, I pressed my thumb against her clit and thrust.

She screamed into my mouth then turned into a creature I could barely hold without being seriously mauled. Her teeth clamped onto my bottom lip as I thrust inside her.

She clutched my arm, feeling every muscle I used to penetrate her again and again.

Last night, she’d fought a long journey to reach that pinnacle of falling.

Tonight, she started coming before I’d had my fill.

Wait…

Moving my bulk, I went to pull her shorts down so I could taste her again. Only her fingers locked in my hair and dragged me back.

She kissed me like a hellcat, forcing me to give up my attempt at licking her.

I settled for my hand instead.

The blindfold stopped me from seeing the shock and unravelling of her orgasm in her eyes. Her mouth opened wide beneath mine, and I took full advantage as her core went tight around my fingers, then detonated outward with waves of powerful clenches.

Her moans turned to whimpers the longer her release lasted until finally she shuddered, hiccupped, and pulled away from our kiss. “Stop, I’m…it’s too sensitive.”

My fingers stilled immediately. My thumb released the pressure on her clit.

She melted into a puddle beneath me on the couch, sweat misting her face, a single droplet glittering in the hollow of her collarbone.

Bending my head, I licked and nipped my way down her throat, coating her in goosebumps until I reached that salty drop and claimed it for my own.

Neither of us spoke.

I didn’t think we could converse in words anymore.

The longer we lay there, sweaty and sex-crazed, the more I noticed I was paralysed from the waist down. The blood-burning, nerve-slicing, bone-crippling need to come hijacked my ability to move.

Shit.

Stretching beneath me, growing drowsy from her climax, Sailor stupidly brushed against my throbbing cock.

I made a noise I wasn’t proud of. Something tortured and dying, guttural and animalistic.

She froze.

Her hand went to the eye mask as if to tear it off.

I fumbled for my skull scarf, trying to wrench it over my mouth and nose, but…she sucked in a breath and lowered her hand, staying blindfolded.

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