Page 91 of The Scars I Bare
My hands fell to my sides, grasping the sheets between my fingers, as he reached for the G-string, wrapped it around his wrist, and snapped it.
Holy shit.
When he moved the lace to one side, I felt the full onslaught of his mouth on my tight, wet core. My head fell back, and I gave in to the sensations of it all.
The delirious, wonderfully exhausting sensations of being worshipped by Dean Sutherland.
I writhed under his touch as he worked my body with expert precision, knowing exactly how to squeeze out every last drop of pleasure until I was hovering on the edge, begging for an orgasm.
He kept me there, aching and wanting, rubbing my clit, and then he quickly sat up in the bed.
“Please, Dean,” I whimpered, needing that release more than I needed anything in that moment.
The whole town could have paraded into his bedroom right then, and I would have simply held up a finger and asked them to politely wait until he finished me off.
I needed relief. I needed—
“Oh my God!”
My orgasm hit as he slammed into me, joining us in the most intimate way. One thrust became two, and my climax grew, over and over, with never-ending waves of pleasure as he fucked me hard.
His mouth—that sweet, merciful mouth of his—closed over my nipple, sucking and gently biting the tip as his hand gripped my hip, demanding more.
I thought I’d given everything.
Surely, I had nothing left.
I was spent.
But, as he rocked my hips back and forth, I felt it. That flutter deep in my belly. A spark that soon grew into a flame.
A flame that roared into an inferno.
“Oh God, I’m going to come again!”
A satisfied grin spread across his handsome face as his movements became rushed and almost frenzied.
I rose up, kissing that cocky grin right off his face, as the room filled with the sounds of our lovemaking. Heavy sighs, soft groans, skin against skin.
It was beyond erotic, and as I cried out my second orgasm, I knew that this was where I wanted to be.
Wrapped in this man’s broken embrace forever.
Deciding to maintain our no-clothes policy that I’d joked about earlier, we decided a night in would be best.
“I could see about having something delivered,” he said as we headed downstairs, wrapped in blankets.
I shook my head, taking a seat on the couch. “That would require clothes to answer the door.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Good point. Okay, let me go see what I can throw together. Lucky for you, I always keep a stockpile of ramen on hand.”
“I love ramen!” I exclaimed, taking advantage of his comfortable furniture. I’d been so blind with lust, I hadn’t taken any real time to look around when I arrived.
Now that I felt satiated, for at least the moment, I let my eyes do more than a quick once-over of Dean’s place.
It was well kept with a very minimal approach. The furnishings appeared to be mostly secondhand but on the newer end. The gray couch I sat on was probably the most updated thing in the room with an older leather chair in the corner. Several family pictures were scattered on the walls as well as maps and photos of the area.
I’d never given much thought to Dean the fisherman other than his outwardly appearance. But seeing him surrounded by the things he loved, I couldn’t help but wonder what he had once been like.
