Page 85 of Unleashed
Heat blooms low and deep just as the door clicks shut, and Isaia steps inside like the air itself bends for him. My lungs lock. I can’t stop staring—broad shoulders stretching his shirt, the sharp cut of his jaw shadowed in dark stubble, veins raised in his forearms like maps of violence and control. My pulse skips, my thighs press together, and I know he sees it.
His smirk is slow, devastating. “Christ, Everly. You’re looking at me like you’re about to strip me with your teeth.”
I lick my lips. “Maybe I am.”
He doesn’t hurry. He never hurries. Isaia moves like he’s got all the time in the world, and somehow that makes me more desperate. He slides his jacket off, tossing it across a chair, his gaze never leaving me. The weight of it pins me where I sit.
His eyes drop to my belly, round and high beneath the silk of my nightdress. For a breath, everything sharp about him softens. His palm finds my ankle, warm and steady, then drags slowly up my calf, his thumb circling behind my knee. My body shivers at the small act of possession.
“Fuck, I love you pregnant.” His hand presses wide over the swell, protective and possessive all at once. “I might keep you pregnant, breed you over and over again.”
A shiver rockets down my spine, heat pooling deep inside me.
He lowers, lips brushing the thin silk stretched over me, kissing slow and soft, as if he’s kneeling at an altar. “My baby’s in here,” he whispers against my skin. “And you still ache for me.”
My breath stutters. “Isaia…”
“Shh.” Another kiss, lower this time. Another. Then his tongue flicks the fabric, and my entire body jerks. His voice drops, husky. “Still craving my cock like it’s air.”
Desire spikes through me, pooling between my legs. My breath hitches. “You like it.”
“Like it?” His laugh is sharp, almost cruel. “I go insane for it.”
I gasp when he nudges the hem of my nightdress higher, baring my thighs, leaving me trembling. His mouth trails a path upward, not rushed, lingering—an excruciating, beautiful tease. He pauses at the underside of my breast, his lips brushing thesensitive swell before his tongue circles my nipple. I cry out softly.
He looks up at me, fire already burning in his eyes. “Your breasts are so full. Heavy. They ache, don’t they?”
“Yes…” I whisper, my chest heaving.
He slips the fabric over my head and off. The warmth of his mouth is on me, licking the swell of my breast, and I gasp when he latches on, sucking slow and firm until pleasure shoots straight between my legs. His teeth graze, then his tongue soothes, and I arch into him, keening.
“Isaia…”
He looks up at me with fire in his eyes. “Fuck. These tits. Full of milk. Heavy for me. You leaking yet, baby?” He bites gently, then soothes with his tongue. “You want me to drink from you?”
I whimper, rolling my hips, searching for him.
He grabs my chin, forces me to meet his gaze. “Don’t hide it from me. You love that I want you like this. Pregnant. Ripe. You love that I worship you like this.”
“I do,” I whisper.
He smirks, dark and certain. “Good girl.” His thumb presses across my nipple, squeezing until I gasp again, and he dips back to lave me with his tongue.
The pace is deliberate. Drawn out. He kisses every inch of my swollen breasts, the underside, the valley, the sensitive peaks. Then he moves lower again, over the swell of my belly, pressing his lips, whispering words I can barely hear but feel all the wayin my bones. His reverence has me trembling, my body already begging for more even though he hasn’t given it yet.
His fingers curl beneath the lace edge of my panties, and he kisses me there—a gentle brush of lips over the lace, and my legs quiver as he drags the thin fabric down my thighs until they catch at my ankles. My panties hit the floor, and his fingers brush against my sensitive pussy. His gaze flits to my face, to the neediness swirling in my eyes.
"Open," he orders, the baritone thrum of his voice sinking deep into me and forcing a shudder through my limbs. I obey him without question, spreading my thighs wider, the air instantly hitting my heat and making me shudder.
That first lick is a revelation. I moan, my back arching off the bed. His tongue is confident, sure, as it strokes a path through slick folds. It flicks over my clit in a way that has me biting my lip to keep from screaming out. Isaia looks up from between my legs, his eyes dark with lust. “I fucking love that your pussy craves me, that the need for my cock controls you.”
I moan, writhing, needing more.
“I love that it hurts,” he rasps, moving, licking a trail over my belly, between my breasts. “The idea of you in pain when my cock’s not inside you.”
“Fuck,” I moan, pressing my thighs together, needing relief.
“You, little troublemaker, are going to show me just how badly you need me.”
