Page 63 of Burn

A shift to straddle his lap, and he brushes wet strands of hair out of my face, eyes searching mine. I allow my gaze to wander, scanning his jaw, thick neck, broad chest, and the hard lines of his abs visible even when sitting. I trace the lines of the tattoo that spans his chest. Two skulls are facing each other, one wearing a fire helmet, and the other wearing what looks like a police hat. His breath stutters under my touch, and he spreads both of his hands across my back, spreading heat through me.

My heart kicks up a notch, watching his chest rise in short breaths. When I finally look back to his eyes, they’re hooded, and his lips have parted slightly. His fingers dig into my back when he says, “You can’t possibly know the power you have over me.”

Me?

I shift, slowly grinding into him, and his head falls back. The scruff that lines his jaw hypnotizes me, and I lift my hand from his chest to brush my fingers against it. Each place our bodiesconnect feels like an inferno, as if my body will smolder against his, and I want more contact, so I reach for the hem of my shirt, slowly pulling it over my head. His eyes drop, taking in my peaked nipples. I expect him to draw one into his mouth when he shifts forward, but he trails soft kisses across my collarbone, pulling me closer.

Every movement is intentional and exploratory. Like he’s never really seen me before and wants to memorize every piece of my body. There are no demanding words, no harshness. The room is silent, save for our pounding hearts and heated breaths. When his eyes meet mine, I’m overcome with a primal need to taste him, so I lean forward. Our lips nearly touch when he stops me, his eyes deep and unrelenting.

I can feel him in my soul, in every dark part of me that’s never felt love, and I silently beg him to share his light with me.

The moment his lips meet mine, my body burns, fire raging through, heat pooling in my core. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling myself in, needing every piece of me to touch him. This is so much more than desire or want. I’ve been suffocating, and it’s so different from every other kiss; it feels like oxygen, bringing me back to life.

“Adrian,” I moan against his mouth. It’s not enough. I need more. He wraps a hand around my neck, gently urging me backward.

We both gasp for air, but how do I tell him I breathe better when his mouth is on mine?

He throbs against me, the thick, hard lines of him pressing against me with so much delicious friction. “It’s not enough,” I say, my voice airy and desperate.

His eyebrows shoot up, and I move, shifting off his lap and sinking to my knees beside the bed. There’s momentary confusion in his expression, so I set my hands on my thighs,silently inviting-no, begging for more. He slowly turns, his feet hitting the ground on either side of my body, and I reach for him, urging him to stand.

“Jesus Christ.” It’s a strangled groan on his tongue as he rises from the bed, putting him in the perfect position. He remains still, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. I stare up at him as I grip the band of his shorts, and pull them down, over his ass.

I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to his size. Long and thick. I study the map of veins that run his length and the moisture that decorates the tip of his perfect dick. Time stands still, and this man knows nothing about power, about who has it. His hands flick at his side, and before he can pull me up or question my motives, I lean in, flicking my tongue over his tip and tasting him.

Adrian’s hands land on the mattress behind him, stabilizing himself, and I open my mouth, sucking him in. I slowly move back and forth, and when it’s too much, and I need more, I move my hands over the ridges of muscles in his legs. I want to taste every fucking part of him, so I wrap my hands around his legs and pull myself in, pushing him down my throat, flicking my tongue across the bottom of his cock.

“Fuck, Lex,” he moans. “You’re so good.”

The praise, genuine praise, has my clit throbbing, and as I continue to bob, I lower my hand, rubbing small circles against it. The combination of his taste and my touch has me moaning. His thighs flex, and one of his hands reaches around to collect my damp hair, wrapping it around his fist. I increase my tempo, sucking harder and faster, and circling myself. Inching us both closer to release.

His voice is pure, liquid sex when he says, “Are you gonna make yourself come while you suck my dick?” I hold his gazeas I nod eagerly, and he groans again. “Good. You gonna swallow my cum?”

Not a demand. A question. A request.

I nod again.

His eyes roll back, and I barely hear him when he says, “So fucking beautiful.”

Those words push me so close to my edge. My arousal drips down my thighs, coating my fingers, and my movements become more frantic, needing him to get there with me. The groan that rips out of my throat is feral. It vibrates around him, and his entire body goes stiff.

He releases my hair, and his palm lands on the back of my head as his low, needy voice washes over me, “This is the only warning you’ll get.” It’s choked, as if he’s struggling to get it out.

I feel his dick pulse against my tongue as the first wave of my orgasm hits me. It pushes me forward, and the only reason I don’t scream is because my mouth and throat are too full of him. His hand flexes, pulling me in closer and shoving his dick further down the back of my throat, blocking my air way as he spills inside of me.

My head spins. Maybe from my orgasm that’s still rocking my body, my complete inability to breathe, or both. The edges of my vision blur, and I realize it’s a lack of oxygen, just as Adrian releases me, allowing me to take a much-needed breath of air. He falls back onto the bed, using his hands to keep himself upright, breathing heavy.

“That was…” he starts.

“Unexpected?” I offer, my voice raspy.

He laughs, and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of the sound. “Amazing. That was amazing.”

I drop my eyes and smile, suddenly unable to bear the weight of his stare and feeling shy, exposed, and exhausted. A growlcuts through the silence, and Adrian reaches for me, gripping my arms and pulling me into his lap. “What goes on inside that head of yours?” he asks in a low voice spoken directly into my ear. “I can never get a read on you.”

I shrug, nuzzling into him, grateful to be cloaked in his embrace. He pushes back, leaning against the wall, and tucking me in next to him. I let him hold the weight of it all for me, every good and bad thing that consumes my thoughts.

I feel him shift, moving me a little so he can grab his notebook and resume whatever he’s working on. I stay like this, wrapped in him, listening to the thrum of his heart and the scratch of his pen on paper, drifting off to sleep.

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