Page 85 of Deep In Love
“Oh,fuck,” Charlie moans, one hand falling back to rest on my upper thigh, her nails imprinting half-moons on my flesh.
Maybe I’ll add a third tattoo—those small little marks to remind both of us who I belong to.
I nip and lick, chasing every breathy sound she offers me until I’m high on her, on this moment. Peering up over hooded lids, I find her lost in the pleasure, tweaking her nipple between her finger and thumb, her head tossed back. The view is fucking magnificent as she grinds her hips against my jaw.
Her breath hitches, and her thighs begin to shake. I drag her down by the globes of her ass, sucking her clit between my teeth.
“I’m gonna…” She trails off, breath shaky. “Oh, Neptune.”
Charlie’s grip tightens as she climaxes, grinding her hips against my five-o’clock shadow as she moans. I don’t stop my assault until she’s pushing off my chest and flopping onto the bed.
Her breath is erratic, but she chokes out, “Holy fucking Neptune.”
“Mateo,” I correct, leaning over her. “Not Neptune. Mateo.”
I can feel the cocky smile tugging my cheeks upward as Charlie lies on the bed, sated and content. Her hair is splayed along the pillow, and I lean down to place a kiss on her chest. One by one, I move from scar to scar, doing what I told myself I always would if I had the opportunity: pour admiration into each wound.
As I reach the long, straight scar on her hip, Charlie mutters, “Broke my pelvis.”
I move up to the curved one along her abdomen from her spleen removal. I continue my path, peppering kisses along her chest on all the small marks before I reach her face.
Starting at her temple, I offer languid kisses along the raised flesh. When I’m done, there are tears pooling on her lashes.
“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever beheld,” I admit. Her hands fly to cover her face, but I peel them away. “Only the truth.”
“I…Thank you,” she says, her face flaming.
I lean down to kiss her when she grabs my shaft, squeezing slightly. She catches my moan with a kiss as she quickens her pace, tightening her grip at the base. Charlie nibbles at my lower lip, pulling it between her teeth, and it’s all it takes for the pressure at my spine to coil like a spring.
My muscles tighten as I barrel closer to completion. Is it a tad embarrassing that I’m about to come from a hand job? Maybe, but I thought I was going to come in my fancy pants. A win is a win.
Charlie kisses me, her hand picking up speed until I combust, spilling all over her chest, covering her with spurts of cum. My breath is uneven, ragged, and when I rise and realize she looksclaimed,I lose my breath completely.
Regardless if she knows it yet or not, Charlie Bowen is mine. Mine to cherish. Mine to worship. Mine tokeep.
Chapter 25
Charlie
Raucous chatter fills the lounge area overflowing with boat and production crew, who are enjoying the evening off as the vessel transits to a new location. Bottles of cheap beer and wine litter the bar counter in the corner, and Sofía laughs as Jett mimics a horrible Australian accent.
A dozen things happen at once, but every brain cell I possess is focused on one thing: Mateo’s hand resting on my thigh, perilously close to where his face was last night.
The sexual tension has been thick all day, twisting me tighter and tighter until I’m ready to combust. Lingering touches in the lab. Longing looks across the room. Whispered words as he passes by. I’m a firecracker ready to explode.
My inner thighs ache from the beard burn he left behind—a constant reminder of him. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t self-conscious of how I looked or what scars he might see, but rather, I could experience the moment as it was. I didn’t realize how badly I’ve trapped myself in my mind until I felt the freedom I’ve denied myself.
I didn’t get lost in the anxious thoughts because Mateo tethered me to earth.
Speaking of the devil, Mateo swipes his thumb against my inner thigh, right atop the raw flesh, pulling a hiss. His eyebrows scrunch while he repeats the action.
“Are you hurt?” he whispers.
“I’m fine.” I’ll apply some cream on it tonight when I oil my joints, and by morning, I won’t have to hobble when I walk. Plus, I like the sting. It’s a reminder of what happened and how I felt. He doesn’t look like he believes me, so I add, “It’s a bit raw from your beard.”
“Oh.”
His face is stoic before it blooms into a pleased smile, overflowing with male pride. I try to school my features, to prevent my own, but it cracks through anyway.
