Page 93 of The Grief We Hold

I smile. “That’s not what I meant.”

He looks up at me. “You’re enough, Blue. Just as you are. Just be you. That’s the only person I want.”

That one sentence is enough to put me at ease, and I settle back.

Wraith hooks his fingers in the waistband of my underwear and pulls it down my legs. The callouses on his fingers gently scratch my sensitive skin.

But when he licks me, stroking through my wetness, my back arches, and I stop worrying.

The sheets wrinkle beneath my feet as I dig my heels into the edge of the mattress and grip Wraith’s hair when he buries his face between my thighs.

“Ah,” I cry out as he nips at my clit, then licks it to soothe it.

Wraith looks up at me. “You taste really fucking good, Blue.”

An epiphany hits me. I’ll get the sex I want if I’m honest with him. And it’s that simple.

I don’t have to lie back and settle for any of it.

Wraith stands sharply and rips his T-shirt over his head. “I want you to be a good girl and ride my face like it’s a fucking Harley.”

Even his words have the power to fuel my arousal. I want to be his good girl so badly.

He kicks off his jeans and shucks his socks and underwear, utterly comfortable being naked in front of me.

Within a minute, I’m naked too. And while he climbs onto the bed and lies down in the middle of it, I feel exposed.

“Face the headboard,” he instructs.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach; I’m nervous, but I want this.

I want him.

“Oh, and Raven,” he says with a grin, “when I say ‘ride my face,’ I mean it. None of this ‘I don’t want to suffocate you’ shit. Not being able to breathe will be half the fun.”

I climb over him, and he’s swift to grip the cheeks of my ass and pull me down until I’m seated on his face.

The sensations overwhelm me. The brush of his scruff on my thighs. The feel of his mouth all up in me.

His hands encourage me to do as he asks.

To ride his face.

I roll my hips against his mouth and lean forward, putting my palms on his headboard.

Maybe it’s cowardice, but I close my eyes. Seeing nothing helps me let go of the lingering embarrassment, allowing me to just feel.

“Axel,” I cry as my body climbs closer to orgasm.

I hear his gasp for air.

It shouldn’t turn me on that he’s choosing to suffocate himself.

One of his fingers slides between the cheeks of my butt, touching me in the most intimate of places. I’ve never triedanal sex. It’s never appealed to me, but suddenly, I’m thinking anything is possible with this man.

In the moment, I’m able to disassociate from all the things that might distract me. Instead, I remain present to all the sensations I’m feeling, which…

“It feels so good,” I say. The words come out on a breathy sigh.

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