Page 9 of Cross Check Hearts

“I grew up in Québec,” he says as he lowers himself to his knees between my legs.

He pushes my feet up onto the edge of the bed and gently places his lips to my ankle, kissing all the way up the inside of my leg until his face is buried between my legs. He tugs my panties down to my ankles and pushes my dress up over my hips to give himself better access.

“You have a beautiful tattoo,” he whispers as he traces a finger around the outline of a small blue-and-green hummingbird etched just above and to the right of my pubic bone.

His attention to every detail about me—even this small, private tattoo that I’ve barely ever shown to anyone else—feels almost more intimate than the way he’s touching me. But before I can think about that too hard, he lowers his mouth to my pussy, making my mind go temporarily blank.

“Mon Dieu, tu as le gôut du miel,” he mutters as his tongue flicks across my folds. I still can’t understand exactly what he’s saying, but right now, I have a pretty good idea.

I’ve never been a big fan of having guys go down on me because it’s usually sloppy and halfhearted, so I try to pull him away at first—but he’s so good at it that my hands wind in his dark, wavy hair instead and hold him in place so I can grind my pussy against his tongue. He groans hungrily as he eats me out, his tongue pushing in and out of me and swirling around my clit, and I lose myself in it.

“Don’t stop,” I beg, surprised at how quickly he’s turned something I never particularly enjoyed into an experience I never want to end. “Fuck, please don’t stop.”

“You like that, hummingbird?” he mutters, the vibration of his voice against my white-hot bundle of nerve endings ratcheting up the feeling even higher.

“Yes,” I hiss through clenched teeth, and my eyes flutter shut as he fucks me with his tongue. No one has ever made me feel as amazing with their mouth as he is right now, and I don’t want it to end, but as fire builds in my core and my back arches away from the mattress on its own, I know I’m not going to be able to take much more.

“Give it to me,” he demands as he sucks my clit into his mouth, and it’s so shockingly intense that it sends me over the edge.

I shudder against him, riding his face and tongue as I come, and he laps at it like he can’t let a drop go to waste. When it’s over, he emerges from between my legs, his lips and chin gleaming wet in the dim light that dances across his face from the candles.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, but his eyes never leave mine. He shucks his clothes off in a hurry and I shimmy out of my dress, sitting on the edge of the bed in front of him. I reach for his swollen cock and try to take it into my mouth, but he takes a handful of my hair and pulls me off his cock.

“Later,” he says, his voice raspy. “I’ve got so many things I want to do with you, but first, I need to be inside you.”

I nod and scoot up the bed, lying back as my heart races. Several condoms lie on the little table by the bed, and he reaches over me for one and tears it open. I watch as he rolls it onto his cock, and my stomach flutters at the sight because I can’t believe how thick and long he is. Taking him is going to be a challenge, but I’m not about to back down from it now.

His eyes meet mine as he finishes rolling the condom on, and he smirks confidently. It’s almost like he’s teasing me, daring me because he can sense how badly I want it.

“This isn’t your first time, right?” he asks, clearly picking up on my anxiety, and I laugh breathlessly—both because I’m surprised he noticed my nerves and because of the way he phrased the question.

“No. It’s just my first time with a cock that looks like it could break me.”

His expression softens, although heated pride flashes in his eyes. He smirks as he climbs on top of me on the bed, then spreads my legs apart and leans down to kiss my neck.

“Don’t worry, hummingbird. I’m not going to break you,” he whispers against my skin. “I’m just going to ruin you.”

The nickname—so perfectly matched to my tattoo—sends a thrill through me. It feels intimate and personal, even though he still doesn’t know my real name.

A gasp escapes me as his cock head finds my entrance. He starts to work his way into me, rocking his hips side to side to open me up for him as he pushes deeper, and although the feeling of him stretching me like this is almost overwhelming, it’s equally incredible. My fingers dig into the marbled muscles in his back, and the amber flecks in his eyes flash in the candlelight like sparks drifting away from a fire.

“You feel amazing,” he breathes, his forehead pressed to mine, our breaths mingling. “So fucking perfect.”

He rocks his hips backward, and I’m so tight that I can’t help clamping down around him, adding to the friction. With nothing but his cock head still inside, he gives me a second to adjust and catch my breath, then pushes into me again. What little air I had rushes out of my lungs as he stretches me, and time feels like it stops moving as he falls into a steady rhythm, rocking in and out of me, taking deep, plunging thrusts and putting me into a trance.

“Look at me,” he commands.

When I do, the expression on his handsome face nearly undoes me. He’s watching my reactions, adjusting his pace and angle in response to every gasp and moan. It’s like he’s learning me, memorizing what drives me wild.

When he finally bottoms out inside me, he drops his head to take one of my nipples in his mouth, trapping it between his teeth and applying just the right pinch of pain and pleasure. It’s too much when I’m so worked up already, and I fly apart for him all over again, clawing at his back and wrapping my legs around his waist as he picks up the pace, driving into me hard and fast. I can see it on his face just before he comes, the way he grits his teeth, the muscles in his neck standing out as his cock pulses and swells inside me.

He lets out a deep, guttural groan, thrusting deep one more time and then going still as he empties himself into the condom. He grinds the base of his cock against my clit as he comes, sending sharp aftershocks of pleasure zapping through me, then collapses on top of me, spent.

Our sweat-slicked chests rise and fall against each other, our hearts pounding hard for several long moments as we catch our breath. Then he lifts up a little, looking down at me with something almost like awe in his expression.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, brushing my hair from my face with a gentleness that contrasts with the way he just fucked me. His fingertips trace the contours of my face like he’s trying to commit them to memory. “I can’t wait to make you do that again and again.”

I nod breathlessly, then laugh because I realize he was right.

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