Page 55 of Heart of Stone
I nod, unable to look away as he begins to move. Everything else falls away—the party outside, my fears. There’s only this, only him, only us.
I arch into his touch, needing more, craving more. He obliges, his mouth trailing fire down my neck, across my collarbones, lower still to take one aching nipple between his lips. I cry out, my fingers sinking into his hair to hold him in place. The scrape of his beard against my skin is a delicious contrast to the wet heat of his mouth.
“Hawk, please...” I don’t know what I’m begging for, only that I need it, need him.
“Please what?” he murmurs against my skin.
His touch is gentle—reverent almost—as his hands map my curves. The way he touches me makes me feel beautiful. Cherished.
I meet his gaze, seeing something there that makes my chest tight. No one has ever looked at me like this—like I am precious, like I matter.
"You're everything," he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine.
I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel his warmth, his strength, his steadiness. His heartbeat thunders against my palm where it rests on his chest, matching my own racing pulse.
The moment stretches between us, heavy with meaning. Then he kisses me—slow and deep and perfect—and I stop thinking altogether.
His hands tangle in my hair as he angles my head, deepening the kiss. His other hand slips under my shirt, skimming up my spine and sending shivers dancing across my skin.
I moan into his mouth, arching into his touch.
He pulls away, gasping for air. "God, Andi..."
I lean up on my elbows, tracing a finger along his jawline. "Good?"
He grins. "Perfect."
"Excellent," I say breathlessly, tugging him lower again. "Because I'm not done with you yet."
I don't know how much longer I can take this torture. Hawk's mouth is a drug, his touch pure fire, and with every second that passes, my control frays that little bit more.
"Condom," I manage to whimper.
He pulls back, holding eye contact as he reaches for his bedside drawer. Our fingers brush as he hands it over, a shock of electricity sizzling between us.
"Put it on me," he commands softly.
His eyes rake over me, dark and hungry, and my legs clench in response.
God, I am wet. So fucking wet.
Slowly, I unbutton his jeans, my gaze never leaving his. I can see the feral need in him, the way he fights for control as I tease him.
I free him from his pants, licking my lips nervously as I gaze down at the fistful of cock I've revealed. He is average size butthick, so thick I know he'll need to stretch me before being able to work his way inside.
"Can I taste?" I ask, holding his cock in one hand, the condom in the other.
His rumbled reply is lost as he bunches his fingers in my hair and gently pushes me down.
My tongue swirls around the head of his cock, his groaned appreciation shooting lightning through me.
"Fuck."
"Too much?" I ask, looking up at him with a cheeky grin.
"Never."
I smirk and oblige, taking more of him into my mouth. He clenches his fists in the bedsheets as I explore—teasing him with long, slow laps of my tongue, gently stroking my nails down his shaft.
