Page 50 of Deny Me
A mental litany of all the reasons he didn’t want to blow his load too soon, heavily peppered withNo way in hell, ran through his mind as he made quick work of his fatigues and underwear. Charlotte stepped back, allowing him to bend over, tug off his boots, and kick his legs clear. When he straightened, it was to the sight of her seated in the middle of the bed, legs curled to one side, the silk of her gown caressing her body. The sight of her froze him in place.
Charlotte tilted her chin to the side. “What is it?”
He couldn’t explain it. Deep inside, where vulnerability was allowed and he could acknowledge his emotions, he was shaking. It took long moments before he could bring the words to the surface. “You’re so beautiful. More beautiful than I could ever remember. And I’ve tried.”
She ducked her head. “King, I’m not beautiful.” Waving a hand over herself, she said, “This body is broken.”
He prowled closer. “Because you can’t carry a child?”
“Yes.” The word was whispered, hoarse, filled with a pain he couldn’t imagine bearing.
His knee landed on the mattress. “No.” He growled the denial as he pushed forward. “This body isn’t only meant for pregnancy. It carries your soul.” Dipping his head so he could peek up into her face, he tried to convey the truth with his gaze as much as his words. “That soul is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and when I get to touch this body, I get to touch that soul.” A kiss, gentle, then hard. “I’ve never felt anything more beautiful than that.”
Charlotte stared into his eyes for a long time, the brown of her irises almost black. Finally her expression softened, and she reached a hand up to the tie along her shoulder. “Thank you.”
When the material unknotted and the silk slid down her shoulder to bare one round breast, his mouth watered. “I think that’s my line.”
A laugh filtered out between them. Charlotte laid back against the mound of pillows as she reached for the opposite tie. “Then you’re welcome.”
He didn’t wait for the gown to come off—he was on her breasts before it had whispered down to her waist. Cupping each mound in one hand, he rubbed his nose in the valley between them and soaked in her scent, the feel of her surrounding him.
“King,” Charlotte moaned, arching against him. From memories ingrained deep inside, he knew exactly what she wanted. He turned his head and grasped one dark nipple between his teeth to suck her in.
Her cry was high, filled with pleasure and need. King nursed her greedily, hungry for her taste and for more of that sound, more of her pleasure. Rolling with her onto their sides, he nestled against her and feasted.
Charlotte surged restlessly against him, her hand buried in his hair, clutching him to her hard. When her thigh lifted to curl around his back, pull him close, he reached between them and slid sure fingertips between the lips of her sex.
So wet. So good.
Too good. He could already feel the pressure of his orgasm building at the base of his cock, his need to be inside her a clawing hunger he didn’t think he could hold back. Charlotte felt the same if her swollen, slick flesh was telling the truth. Her body had never lied to him before, but to be sure, he slid first one finger, then a second into her opening, testing her readiness, reacquainting himself with those spots that had always set her off, the tightness that strangled his fingers now like they had his cock from the moment she’d given him her virginity so many years ago.
“King, King, King.” She chanted his name to the rhythm of his thrusts. He shifted his hand, pressed his thumb to her clit, and raised his head to watch as she went off like a rocket. Every part of her tightened—her closed eyes, her grip on his head, her leg thrown over him. Those tiny muscles deep inside gripped his fingers like a vise, like she never wanted to let him go.
I hope to God she doesn’t.
A second orgasm hit her as he worked his fingers, more gently now. Charlotte shuddered her way through it before rolling to her back. “Come here. Come inside me.”
Only when his naked cock slid against her pleasure-slicked skin did he realize… “Wait. I don’t have a condom.”Fuck.He squeezed his eyes shut. He certainly didn’t need condoms on an op; hell, he hadn’t needed them outside of an op in longer than he could remember. Without Charlotte…well, suffice it to say he didn’t do casual sex, and the few times he’d tried anything more long-term just hadn’t felt right.
He pushed the thought away and reached for her hand, wrapping it around him. “Bring me off, angel.”
She slid her hand down, spreading the moisture from her body along his rigid cock. “I want you inside me, King.”
“I won’t risk you.” The words rasped through his throat as pleasure rocketed up his shaft.
“Are you clean?”
He wrapped a hand around hers, stilling her so he could focus. This was too important to get wrong. “I am.” It might’ve been a long time, but JCL required regular checkups, including blood work. “That doesn’t mean I’ll—”
Her wet fingers settled against his lips. “I can’t get pregnant. And I’m clean.” She dipped a finger inside, gifting him with her taste. “I want you inside me. Give me this.”
He wasn’t about to argue, not with her flavor on his tongue. He dipped his head to share it with her as he guided his cock to her body, then inside. Heat swamped him, her grip a hot clasp he had to force his way through. Charlotte tilted her head back, mouth open on a gasp, and he dipped to suck a hard, dark nipple as he retreated, then surged back inside.
King drowned in a cacophony of gasps, thrusts, flesh and pleasure. Time lost its meaning as he gorged himself on her, on the sweetness of her cries and the swell of his hunger. On the rush to the peak. And when it was over, when their breaths had gone quiet and the darkness blanketed them in safety, he knew.
He couldn’t walk away, not again. Not without her. No matter what happened.
Chapter Twenty-Three
