Page 101 of The Heart We Guard
The door slams behind us when he kicks it with his boot, and he guides us to the sofa before placing me down. “Can’t wait to get to the bed. Unbutton the shirt, but don’t take it off.”
I like Butcher like this. Something about his straightforward orders makes this easy to navigate and enjoy.
He tugs my jeans down my legs, and they’re followed swiftly by my panties. My fingers shake as I open the buttons, out of anticipation.
Butcher’s eyes roam my body as the shirt opens. I’m not wearing a bra, and his tongue runs over his lower lip. “You’re the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”
I try to see myself from his perspective. Just his shirt and cream wool socks that slouch. “Even like this?”
He puts his hands on the back of the sofa and leans down to kiss me. “Especially like this. Wait right there. I need a condom.”
I swear, the man must sprint to his room because it feels like he’s back in the length of a heartbeat.
“Touch yourself while I put this on,” he says. “I want to see how you get yourself off.”
I part my legs, banking the nerves I feel. His eyes follow my hand as I gently place my fingers over my pussy. I’ve always been more of a grinder than someone who loves penetration. But rolling my hips against my fingers, I feel so exposed.
“Gonna last two minutes when I get inside you with that vision in my head.” He tips his chin to what I’m doing. But his words settle something inside me.
He’s already chosen me. He loves fucking me. What I’m doing is turning him on. It doesn’t matter that I’m not the sexiest woman alive, because, under his watchful gaze, I feel like I am.
He stands at the end of the sofa and whips the belt from his jeans with a whooshing sound. The belt buckle hits the ground with a thud. Then, he opens the zipper and buttons before shoving the jeans and his boxer briefs enough down his thighs that he can put the condom on.
When he crawls over the arm of the sofa and lies down over me, I’m ready for him. And he wastes no time lining his cock up to my pussy.
“Nolan,” I cry when he buries himself to the hilt.
“Ah, shit, Greer. You feel so fucking good.”
There is no soft and slow. Just fast and frantic. A battle to stay on the sofa and not fall off. Hands moving, knees planting. Iraise my hands above my head to push on the sofa arm, so I don’t smack my head into it.
And I love every second.
The second orgasm catches me off guard. It’s lighter than the first, more of a flutter than an explosion, but I suck in air as it floats through me.
And I hold Butcher tight when he follows me over the edge.
He doesn’t say a word. Simply grunts and moans.
And when the shudders stop, he places his head in the crook of my neck. “It’s ridiculous how much I love fucking you.”
I stroke my hand through his hair, then kiss the side of his head. “I could say the same about you.”
We lie there in silence, for a moment, as our breathing returns to normal. His hands rub down my thigh and back.
“I’m gonna fall asleep if I stay here,” Butcher says, using his arms to lift off me. He places a tender kiss on my sternum.
He pulls out of me and climbs to his feet, before removing the condom and tying it up, before depositing it in the garbage in the kitchen. “Let’s go nap in bed and do that again when we wake up.”
Butcher takes my hand, just as my phone rings, and I glance down at it on the coffee table. It’s not an instantly recognizable number, but something compels me to see who it is.
“Don’t answer th—ugh,” Butcher says, grinning as I do it anyway.
“Hello. Greer Hansen.”
“Dr. Hansen, this is Detective Atkins. I need to speak with you about Nicholas Gray and wondered if you could come to the station.”
“Why do you need to speak to me, Detective?” I ask, even as my heart sinks.
