Page 180 of Branded
“Want to see them again?”
I was limp and languid, barely coherent, but that silky question had desire pulsing through me. Yeah, I wanted to see those skills again. Those broad fingers were still inside me, and I could feel myself clenching around them, each pulse sending pleasure through me. His thumb was still near my clit, no longer pressing the hardened bud firmly, just gently circling, staying well away from the sensitive nerves so as not to overstimulate me.
But it was encircling, and it was doing it gently and even though I’d just come, it was ramping me up again.
Now a brush over the top, over the apex of nerves.
My hips bucked.
His hand on my breast convulsed.
His eyes were deep blue, darkened with need, and when I managed to tear my gaze from them, from the beauty of his face—a sheen of sweat on his forehead, a dash of flush on his cheeks, stubble on his jaw, a muscle flickering as he pressed his lips together—I trailed it down his neck with its bobbing Adam’s apple; his shoulders and chest, big and muscled and flexing; down to his abs, flat, no six-pack, but thick and strong and I totally wanted to trace my tongue over every inch of his bare skin. But mostly, I wanted to trail my tongue over the monster pressing against his boxer briefs.
So, the quiet question didn’t have me taking him up on his offer.
It had me sitting up—and, oh boy, did that do nice things to the fingers inside me, the hand on my breast.
But I was a woman on a mission.
A mission I hadn’t known I needed to complete until that moment.
My hands went to his shoulders, pushing him back.
Maybe I took him by surprise, maybe it was my mission that gave me super strength to move a bulky hockey player.
What that mission was?
Getting my mouth on his cock.
His fingers slipped free as I crawled over him, pressing him into the carpet, hands trailing along that strong chest, his flat abs, and…jerking down his boxers.
“Baby—” he began, but the words cut off the moment I squirmed down and my head dipped, taking him deep into my mouth.
He was big and hard and tasted salty.
Fucking delicious.
Fucking beautiful.
“Beth—”
He broke off on a groan when I swallowed him down, and since he liked that, I kept at it. Swallowing him deeper, bobbing and sucking hard, gripping him at his base, timing my strokes with flicks of my tongue up the underside, trailing it over his head.
A jerk of his hips had me focusing there.
Taking him deep, sucking him hard. Gripping the base, teasing his head.
I was pleasuring him, I was sucking his cock, and yet I was more turned on than I had ever been in my entire life.
His big body trembling beneath mine, his fingers in my hair, holding me steady, albeit with the occasional jerk of hips and hands telling me that his control was razor thin. I wanted to break it, wanted him to lose it, to fuck my mouth and come down my throat.
“Beth,” he rasped, fingers flexing, trying to tug me off.
His thighs flexed beneath me, and I sensed his body getting ready to move. And I knew, I knew that I would be on my back in the next second, Raph over me, in me, taking me to new heights.
And this was where my newfound superhuman strength came in.
Hands sliding from my hair, he gripped my shoulders, pushing back lightly, his tone full of warning when he said, “Beth, honey, careful?—”
