Page 35 of Twisted Love

“Stay still,” I murmur. Then I lean down and lick her sex. It’s what I wanted to do from the first moment I saw her in the church, but I was afraid her taste would break me.

The first touch of my tongue against her makes her cry out, a sound that sends a jolt of heat through me. She trembles under me, her hands gripping the sheets as though they’re her only anchor. I go slow at first, savoring her, but her taste is intoxicating, and I lose myself in her, in the softness of her thighs, the warmth of her skin, the electricity that sparks between us with every movement.

Her body arches off the bed as I deepen my attention, my tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that leave her writhing. Her hands find my hair and her fingers tangle in it, pulling hard as if she’s trying to drag me deeper into her. And I let her. I’d let her rip me apart if it meant staying here, like this … with her.

Her hips move against me, uncontrollable now, desperate, and I grip them, holding her steady as I take her higher and higher. Her moans turn to pleas, incoherent and breathless, and I can feel the tension building in her, a coiled spring ready to snap. I suck harder, faster, the pressure driving her to the edge until she shatters beneath me, crying out as her body trembles violently.

Her release is everything—raw, unrestrained, and utterly consuming. She’s spilling into my mouth, and I drink every bit of her, my tongue working to prolong her pleasure, to draw out every last shudder.

When she finally stills and lays limp, my lips press gentle kisses to her skin, feeling her pulse race beneath me. Her breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, and her body glistens with a sheen of sweat and satisfaction. I watch her struggle to regain herself, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her lips parted, her hair splayed wildly across the bed. She looks wrecked and radiant all at once, and the sight of her like this—undone, beautiful, mine—burns itself into my memory.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks, the room filled only with the sound of her breathing and the lingering echoes of what we’ve just shared. I lean forward, resting my forehead against the softness of her thigh, and close my eyes, savoring the warmth of her.

My lips move over her skin, reverent and unhurried, trailing along the curve of her thighs, over the softness of her sex, up the line of her abdomen. She gasps when my tongue dips into the shallow hollow of her belly button, and the sound shoots through me like a live current. I linger, savoring the way her muscles tense beneath my mouth, the way her breath catches as though she’s completely at my mercy.

Next is her breasts. I take my time, cupping their fullness in my hands, feeling their delicious roundness, their warmth. My lips brush against one taut peak, then the other, my tongue teasing in soft, flicking strokes. Her nipples harden against my tongue, and I can feel myself responding in kind, the ache inside me building, building. She cries out, her back arching off the bed, her hands gripping my arms as though she wants to pull me closer.

Her gasps turn to pleas as I take her nipple fully into my mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder. Her cries are high and breathless, her hands now clawing at my shoulders, her legs shifting restlessly beneath me. She tries to twist away, overwhelmed, it’s all too much for her, but I hold her steady, my mouth devouring her, savoring her, drowning in the sweetness of her taste and the sheer intoxicating feel of her. It’s endless, this kiss, this moment, this connection I can’t let go of.

Unwilling to stop, I trail back down her body, my lips tracing the same path they took moments ago, but this time slower, deeper, as though I’m memorizing every inch of her. I reach between us, my hand guiding myself to her, and with deliberate care, I position the tip of my cock against her entrance. She’s so wet, so ready, her slick heat coating me as I thrust into her until she takes all of me.

Her body welcomes me, enveloping me in a way that makes my head spin. I take my time, moving gently at first, rocking into her with an excruciating slowness that has her trembling beneath me. Her hands clutch at my arms, her nails digging into my skin as though she can’t handle the unbearable tension building between us. Her moans are soft and breathless, every sound she makes adding fuel to the fire raging inside me.

I change my rhythm, my movements turning deep and deliberate, every thrust designed to stretch the moment, to draw out every ounce of pleasure. Her legs wrap around me, her heels pressing into my back, urging me to go harder, deeper. I oblige, my pace quickening, the force of my thrusts causing the bed to creak beneath us. Her cries grow louder, more desperate, and I cover her mouth with mine, swallowing her sounds as though I can’t bear the thought of losing even one of them.

“Earl,” she cries against my lips, her voice breaking when I shift my angle and drive into her with a newfound intensity. Her body arches beneath me, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling hard enough to make me groan. I grip her hips, holding her steady as I lose myself in the rhythm of us, the way we fit together, the way every thrust, every movement sends her closer to the edge.

Her release comes suddenly, violently, her body clenching around me as she cries out my name, her voice wrecked with the force of her orgasm. The sight of her coming undone beneath me—her head craned back, throat exposed, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut—is enough to send me over the edge. I follow her, my release hitting me like a tidal wave, pulling me under, leaving me shaking and breathless as I collapse against her.

For a moment, neither of us moves, the room filled with the sound of our ragged breathing, the scent of sex and sweat hanging heavy in the air. I press a kiss to her shoulder, then her neck, and finally her lips, the taste of her grounding me, reminding me that she’s here, that this is real.

She reaches up, her fingers brushing against my cheek, her touch soft, tentative, as though she’s afraid this moment might shatter if she holds on too tightly. I cover her hand with mine, pressing it to my face, and for just this moment, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we could have this again.

CHAPTER21

RAVEN

I’m well aware that in the long term, sex changes very little, but at this moment, as he presses my hand to his face and kisses the middle of my palm, I am liable to believe anything. That we have a chance. All we need to do is talk it out.

Especially when he doesn’t get up to leave, but collapses against me, his face buried in my neck. This is not an opportunity to be missed. His guard is down, and it might not remain this way once this moment passes and the bliss gives way to reality.

I steel myself, my voice soft. “You’re going to tell me to leave, aren’t you? To go back to my room?”

He shifts slightly, pulling away just enough to look at me, his expression cautious. “You want to stay?”

My heart is pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it. “Yes, I want to stay, but if you’re going to kick me out, anyway, then I, at least, want to have my say.”

Almost instantly, his gaze sharpens. In real time I see reality seeping back in, its cold edges slicing through the warmth of the moment. “And what is it you want to say?”

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “I want to know why you’re so angry with me. Why you left so suddenly back then, out of the blue, without a call or even a text. There was no way to reach you. Your phone number was dead. I was blindsided, Earl. We didn’t even argue or anything. I didn’t understand, and it was maddening, but I can see clearly now that it had something to do with me, but I have no idea what. Please, tell me why. Help me understand.”

The air between us grows oppressive. His jaw tightens and his eyes burn into mine. The intolerable silence stretches. Swallowing hard, I wait.

Then he pulls away, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. One hard word drops out of him.

“No.”

I reach out, grasping his arm, desperate to hold onto whatever fragile thread still connects us. “Earl, you need to talk to me. If I did something wrong, you need to tell me. Why punish me this way?”

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