Page 50 of Glass Rose
“Such a good girl for me.” He leans down, his teeth grazing my pulse point. “I can hear your heartbeat getting faster.”
My hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging crescents into his skin. The slight pain makes him hiss as his mouth moves lower, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
“Been thinking about this since this afternoon,” he confesses against my skin.
“Me too.”
His blue eyes lock with mine, something almost vulnerable flickering in their depths before it’s gone, replaced by hunger. One hand slides between my thighs, finding me already wet, and the corner of his mouth lifts in satisfaction. “This for me?”
I tug him up for a kiss instead of answering, our mouths colliding with breathless want while his fingers delve between my folds.
“Gavin,” I breathe, not sure if I’m begging him for physical release or something deeper—the temporary oblivion, the chance to feel something other than guilt and grief.
My hips rise to meet his touch, hungry for more pressure, more friction. More of him. His mouth captures mine again, swallowing my moans as his tongue mimics what his fingers are doing below. I’m drowning in sensation, my body’s response to him immediate and overwhelming.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs against my lips. “Is this what you needed? To be filled up and fucked until you can’t remember your own name?”
“Please,” I beg.
“So polite.” His fingers tease my entrance, never quite giving enough. “Even when you’re soaking my hand, you still ask so nicely.”
“Gavin.” His name escapes me like a prayer. “Please.”
His low chuckle vibrates against my skin as he pushes two fingers inside me, the sudden invasion making me press my face into the pillow to muffle my moans. The rhythm he sets is slow, torturous.
“Eyes on me.” His fingers lock in place as he waits for compliance.
I force my heavy eyelids open, meeting his gaze through the darkness.
“This—” His thumb circles my clit once, making me whimper. “This belongs to me now. Understood?”
My skin burns as I nod, torn between shame and want while his fingers resume a relentless rhythm inside me.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this. All that control you carry around… gone.” He studies me with a predator’s focus, his movements slowing to an excruciating pace. “Say it. What’s mine, Sofia?”
“My—fuck—my body.” The admission unlocks something desperate in me. “Please don’t stop.”
“Not stopping. Just making sure you understand what’s happening here.”
His head dips, mouth closing over my nipple, and I arch off the bed like I’ve been shocked. His tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, teeth grazing just enough to force me to bite my lip hard against the urge to cry out.
“Pity, you have to be quiet.” He increases his pace. “I’d love to hear you scream my name.”
The world narrows to his fingers working their magic inside me, his lips caressing and toying with my nipples, andthe weight of him pinning me down into the comfort of the bed.
I’m teetering on the edge, my body coiling tighter.
“Let go,” he says. “Come for me, Sofia.”
“I can’t—what if they hear?—”
His thumb circles my clit with devastating pressure, his rhythm unfaltering as he curves his fingers inside me, finding my downfall.
Release crashes through me, wiping out every coherent thought. He fuses his lips to mine, and every gasp, every whimper gets stolen by his tongue.
My body jerks with oversensitivity, but he doesn’t stop, pushing me straight through the peak into something deeper, darker.
“Too much—” I manage to gasp.
