Page 35 of To No End

I let out a gasp, which he swallowed with another kiss and sweep of his tongue. He continued to rub and tease me over the soft fabric of my pants, and I worked hard to hold back a moan, but the sensations he created exposed my want. He pulled back for the first time, giving me a second to catch my breath.

His hazel eyes were dark and heavy with desire. He grabbed at my waistline, his fingers dipping just below the fabric, pulling me toward him. He leaned closer and growled, “You’re so fucking beautiful, I can’t wait to taste you.”

My breath hitched, and I barely had time to comprehend his words before he began slowly pulling me away from the door, toward the bed, unbuttoning my pants as we went. By the time I felt the back of my legs hit the edge, he had already made his way to the last button and bent down to his knees. He quickly unlaced my boots, and I had enough sense to be grateful that he didn’t use that knife to destroy another piece of my clothing; I’d have nothing to wear home.

He remained on his knees as he began to slowly remove my trousers, one leg, then the other, baring me. It was at that moment that I wished we were back against the wall; the embarrassment of standing there half-naked was more than I could handle.

“Sit,” he ordered, as he had done before, but this time, he did not sound like someone to ignore.

I did not dare disobey or return some smart-mouthed quip. I did as he commanded. As soon as I did, he sat up on his kneesand spread my legs wide in front of him. My Gods, I wanted to die. Cover me now. He just sat there, taking me in.

“I’ve wanted to do this all day.”

Before I could react, he leaned in and began passionately kissing up the insides of my legs with as much speed and force as he had taken my mouth with just minutes ago. My legs were quivering and all of my nerves went into overdrive as he continued, occasionally biting at my thighs and then sending me over the edge as one hand began to lazily run a finger along my dripping apex.

I laid flat on the bed, unable to do anything but arch further into his hand. There were no kisses to catch the sounds he drove from me. As Trace slid a finger into me, I let out an audible gasp, and from this confession of pleasure, he showed me no mercy.

The next sensation I felt was entirely new. Trace’s tongue swept back and forth across my clit while his finger plunged in and out of me. I began to moan and writhe against his motions. Gods, this was the most incredible feeling. I propped myself up on my elbows to gaze down upon him and was met with the intensity of his stare. His eyes darkened and he continued to work me over, languishing me with the strokes of his tongue. The desperation for more built when I let out a traitorous cry and called out for him, “Trace!”

As soon as he heard his name leave my lips, he shoved another finger in and increased the unrelenting pace and motion. My breathing was uneven and I found myself unable to catch my breath. My body responded to this in ways I had never experienced.

The passion continued to grow as he worked, and I found myself in a cadence of whimpered cries and calling his name over and over, trying to gain control over this unruly and maddening feeling. Suddenly, he stopped.

I was left feeling empty. I was worried I had done something wrong, but I sat up to find Trace now standing at the edge of the bed.

He had removed his boots and began lifting his dark shirt over his head. Had I not been entirely distracted by the sight of him, I might have been more disappointed that he had teased me to the brink and then left me there. But I couldn’t be mad because I was already enamored with what stood before me.

His body was perfectly proportioned for his tall stature. He was muscular, but not bulky, and chiseled everywhere you’d hope. I was now distracted by the distinct tattoo starting at his left hand, running up his arm, and stopping just above his collarbone at the base of his neck.

It was difficult to make out clearly in the light of the fire, but it looked almost like black ink had been spilled down his arm. And that’s when I remembered what he had said about it being a military tattoo and never being able to wash away the blood of the lives you took. That’s exactly what it looked like, spilled blood running the entire length of his arm, almost covering him entirely. Very little of his pale skin remained visible. He stalked toward me, noticing my distracted gaze, and grabbed my chin, tilting it upward, forcing our eyes to meet as he towered over me.

“I like hearing you say my name.”

He ran a finger across my lower lip, looking me over as if he were inspecting me. Like he was considering if I pleased him or not.

“Let’s see how loud you say it this time around, and perhaps, I’ll give you what you want.”

Trace was going to be the literal death of me. He was a mystery, a male of few words, but he sure did choose them wisely. I was wrapped around his finger in a fog of lust, and my mouth watered at the sight of him straining against his pants. It’s a good thing he didn’t encourage me to unbuttonhim because I was pretty sure my hands would have fumbled clumsily.

“Remove your shirt,” he demanded.

There was no room to be shy, after all his face had been between my thighs only moments ago. I did as he instructed and tossed the shirt to the floor, moving my now fully naked body farther back onto the bed to welcome him. He did not take the invitation. He continued to stand at the edge of the bed, just looking down at me.

“Spread your legs.”

Again, I did as he commanded, still feeling a bit embarrassed to be doing so.

“I want you to look at me and begin touching yourself. Touch yourself the way you do when you’re alone.”

My eyes widened at the filthy request he was making of me. But Trace wasn’t making a request. He was instructing my every move this entire evening, and with a slight hesitation, I lowered my hand.

Trace stood there watching me intently, and I could see him take a sharp inhale as he watched me push a finger inside myself. As I began to circle my finger over and over in a rapid motion, my breathing became difficult to control. I tried to keep my eyes focused on him like he had ordered, but it was more difficult than one might think.

Trace freed himself from the constraint of his tight pants and I practically gasped, witnessing him take the hard full length of himself in his hand and begin to stroke. He did not waver. He continued to stare me down as I watched desire build in his gold-flecked eyes.

His jaw clenched tighter when a small moan escaped my mouth. The tension felt like the physical embodiment of all our verbal sparring. It was killing me. I wanted him and I wanted him now. I knew exactly how to bait him to me.

I shoved a second finger in and when I did, I threw my head back in a passionate release and gasped his name loudly, “Trace!”

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