Page 54 of Savage Protector

I spread my legs wide, lift my hips. I know about this, I’ve read the books, the clinical ones and the not so clinical. I understand the theory of arousal, but the reality is something else entirely.

“Oh God. God, God,God.” Hardy eloquent, but it’s the best I can manage.

“Liking that?” He’s released my aching nipples and is now working his way down my stomach, leaving a trail of wet kisses behind him.

“Yes,” I rasp. “Don’t stop.”

“Trust me,” he murmurs. “Enjoy. But first…” He peels my trousers over my hips and down my legs. I lift each foot to allow him to tug them away and drop them on the carpet.

My shoulders are pressing against the mattress, knees wide, my heels digging into the firmness beneath and my hips thrusting. I let the moment roll through me. I abandon myself to the ecstasy, the magic of his lips, his tongue, his fingers. Waves of pleasure pulse in my veins, sending sensation right to my fingertips, to the very ends of my hair.

He shifts down the mattress to nibble at my belly button, then lower still. He skims the smooth skin of my mound but doesn’t even hesitate. His face is between my legs, licking my clit, then he makes a point of his agile tongue and traces the outer lips of my pussy.

My senses shatter. I’m beyond coherent thought, lost in a maelstrom of undiluted lust.

“Zayn,” I cry out, his name dragged from the depths of my being. “Zayn, please…”

His tongue is inside me, probing, tasting, thrusting deep.

His thumb is on my clit, stroking and caressing, circling the greedy nub then pressing hard at precisely the right moment.

My climax seizes me, rips through me, shatters all conscious thought. I can only feel. Only be.

Wave after wave of pleasure assaults my nervous system. Every single one of my nerve endings is standing at attention, tingling. I swear if I was even listening, they’d be singing at the top of their lungs.

But I’m past all of that. I can only float on the tidal wave, dragged down, dragged under to swirl in the depths, to drown or not. Eventually, it seems like a lifetime, the sensation ebbs. My senses, such as they are, return. I surface to find myself gasping and clinging to Zayn like a lifebuoy. Like the only thing in my world that is solid and reliable.

I prise my eyelids apart, then blink in the strong morning sunlight.

He’s above me, propped up on one elbow, a smug smile plastered across his handsome features. “Back with us, then?”

“Shut up,” I mutter. “You did that on purpose.”

“Certainly, I did. Are you complaining?”

I narrow my eyes, try to come up with a witty rejoinder of some description, but fail utterly. I have to settle for, “Conceited bighead.”

He drops a kiss on my mouth before I can expand on my opinion, so instead I opt to go with the flow.

“We’re not done yet. Are we?” I whisper as soon as my mouth is my own again.

“No, we are not. Spread, baby.”

I do, and he reaches over me to extract a condom from the bedside table. He snaps open the foil and offers it to me to do the honours.

I take it and do my best, though totally lacking in expertise in these matters. Medical training doesn’t stretch to this, and I fear my efforts leave something to be desired. My ineptitude reminds me of something I need to say.

“I’ve never done this before,” I blurt.

“I sort of worked that out.” He eyes the tangled mess of the condom, then locks his gaze with mine. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” I snap. “I would have remembered.”

“I mean, are you sure you want to do this?”

Now I hesitate.Am I?

I nod and meet his anxious gaze. “Yes. Quite sure.”

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