Page 113 of His To Unravel
My breath hitches as I watch him, the sight almost undoing me all over again.
Nathaniel is not satiated yet. I can see it in the way his hands clench at my waist, the way his breathing turns ragged.
“It’s not enough,” he murmurs, shaking his head. His eyes are blue flames, gaze burning into mine. “I need to taste you properly.”
Heat floods through me at the raw, unfiltered desire in his voice. The thought of his mouth on me sends a violent shudder down my spine. My knees feel weak, but I find my voice.
“Please.” The word is barely a whisper, but it holds everything—my want, my trust, my surrender. “Take what you need.”
It’s all he needs to hear.
In one fluid motion, he lifts me into his arms, handling me as if I weigh nothing at all.
I have never been a small girl. I have always been hyperaware of my size, have spent my life being reminded—subtly or not—that I’m not delicate, that I take up space. But with Nathaniel, it never feels like something to hide. He holds me like he wants more of me. Like he can’t bear to let go.
He carries me to the bedroom, his grip unrelenting. He sits on the edge of the bed, settling me between his spread knees, his hands still firm on my hips.
“Let me see you, baby.” His voice is quiet as he works the button of my wool skirt. It slides down my legs in a whisper of fabric, pooling at my feet.
My breathing becomes shallow as he reaches for the hem of my sweater, fingers grazing my skin as he pulls it up and over my head. Underneath, I wear a simple black turtleneck, a layer I added to fight against the December cold, and he makes quickwork of that too, sliding it up and off in a slow, deliberate motion. The air is cool against my bare skin, but the way Nathaniel looks at me burns hotter than anything.
I’m left in nothing but a simple black cotton bra and panties, suddenly bare beneath his gaze. There’s nothing extravagant about it, just simple, comfortable fabric. And yet, with the way he gazes up at me, it’s as if I’m standing before him in the most decadent silk and lace.
“God, Olivia,” he breathes. His hands grip my hips, his thumbs brushing over the waistband of my panties. “You’re fucking divine. I can’t believe I get to call you mine.”
My throat tightens at the sincerity in his voice. It isn’t like he hasn’t seen me before. He has traced every inch of my skin with his hands, with his lips. But somehow, he still manages to seem awestruck every time he sees my body.
He tilts his head forward, resting his forehead against my stomach. For a long moment, he just holds me there.
Then, he presses his lips to the indent of my belly button—a lingering, tender kiss that sends me spiraling.
I have spent years hiding my stomach, sucking it in, shifting my posture to make myself appear smaller. I flinched when past lovers tried to touch me there, too caught up in my own insecurities to fully let go. But Nathaniel’s hands, his lips, the way he holds me—it makes all of that fade into nothing.
I don’t love my body. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But with him, I hate it a little less.
He eases down my panties and then leans forward, kissing the top of my slit. His tongue breaches the lips of my pussy, teasing my clit with the lightest flicks. It’s enough to leave me whimpering, holding onto his shoulders so I don’t fall.
He lays back, gesturing for me to climb over him.
My pulse starts to trip when I realize he’s positioning me so I’mstraddling his face.
“Grab the headboard,” he says, voice strained, breath hot against my core. “And sit on my face, baby.”
I hover, worried that I’ll be too heavy for him.
Sensing my reservations, he says, “Do it, please.”
And then, when I still don’t move fast enough, he grabs my hips and forces me down on his waiting tongue.
“Oh god!” I gasp as I clutch his headboard, needing to hold on as Nathanieldevoursme.
His tongue is warm and wet against me, licking and sucking and prodding, swirling around my clit. He gathers my arousal on his fingertips and then he pushes them inside me, thrusting in a rhythm that makes my thighs shake.
I arch against him and my initial doubts evaporate as I begin to ride his face, allowing myself to get lost in how he’s making me feel. The headboard rattles above me as I writhe against him.
I can think of nothing but his tongue and fingers and the sweet, sweet release they are promising. I unclasp my bra and toss it aside, my hands rising to cup my heavy tits, rolling and tugging at the aching peaks.
