Page 80 of Devotion

And he does just that. Stealing my breath away, igniting the fire in my core with every nip and bite of his teeth down my neck. Like it is his mission to sample every inch of my flesh. I am certainly willing to let him try…

Tiny explosions of delight erupt deep in my center with every sensation, especially when his tongue finds that spot at the base of my throat, where my neck meets my collarbone. I nearly cry out to the rippling aura of arousal that pulses through me with only a flick of his tongue.

As we explore one another, my walls crumble further, easing all of my tension.

Fingers massage into my back muscles, relieving aches and worries simultaneously. He knows just what to do to release me from my cage, to unleash me.

And that mouth that never seems to stop talking goes to work doing something he’s even better at. Each kiss is a blessing on my chilled skin, warming me from my night outside.

As if he set a fire in the hearth, my body comes to life with heat, radiating from within, sapped from his love and tender touch.

I inhale, savoring him.

Nothing has ever smelled so good, his hair, his sweat, the faint hint of cologne and soap.

He grips me now, tightly, firmly. And I know how strong his hands are from fighting with him, from the other night when he pinned me and made me come at the club. When he locked onto me in the safe house and plowed me harder than I ever thought possible.

Those powerful hands heal me as he takes his time tonight.

Treating me like I am the most precious thing in the world to him. Like I am delicate.

Lord knows I am not.

But to be catered to this way…

We stand together, still intertwined, still kissing. But we both need the same thing.

Our pants fall to the floor, his erect desire barely contained by his boxers. Already, I can feel that I’ve ruined my underwear, soaking through the fabric with my longing for him. Even more so when he barely grazes fingers around my cheeks, rubbing across me, sampling my arousal.

Hands brush back down my arms, up my back. Tracing figures, shapes, each one scintillating and raising my want of him.

Lips kiss down my shoulder, my arm, my wrist. He sucks gently there, discovering another spot that drives me wild. All the while, he watches me closely, drinking me in from head to toe, his gaze smoldering.

This man is my equal in every single way. He is far beyond me in wit. He is a match for me in passion and prowess, and he disarms me at every turn. He takes down my guard, my shield, and leaves me gasping, starving for more of him, thirsty for a single word out of his mouth. He leaves me exposed and I long for it.

So that he may know me better.

Running my hands over him, I cannot hold out any longer.

I drag his black boxer briefs down, releasing him into my grasp.

“Vanya…” he moans, smiling into my kiss.

“This. This is mine.”

“Yes. Only yours. Just like my love.”

“And this…” I pull his hand to my chest. Our eyes meet.

He said the words, only a short time ago. I do not know if I can say them back. But I can show him.

“Mine,” he states, nodding slowly.

Then he turns me, lowering me to the couch and kneeling before me. In the light of the crackling flames, he is cut from stone. A sculpture of a god.

Such a hard man, a calloused man. Who now caresses my body with the gentle but insistent touch of a lover. Despite the harshness of our world, or maybe to spite that hard life we live.

Ciro does not waste time.

---