Page 57 of Love Bleeds Red
“Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah? I want this to be perfect for you.”
“Yes—Ooh my God. Oh fuck?—”
My words dissolved into a stream of moans as his tongue found my clit, pressing and swirling exactly where I needed him most. It didn’t take long before every one of my muscles began to tighten, that climb of pleasure building and building.
Then he added a finger, slipping it inside me, and stroking in rhythm with his tongue.
“So close… don’t stop.”
He lapped faster, his finger matching the same relentless pace.
Within seconds, total euphoria washed over me. My body shook as the most intense orgasm of my life slammed into me, my scream of pleasure echoing through the clearing. I didn’t care—it felt too good. He felt too good.
He kept going, sucking gently at my clit, drawing every last second of bliss out of me until I couldn’t take anymore. Then he adjusted my underwear and kissed his way back up my body, eyes glassy, lips glistening.
Staring down at me with the most reverent smile, he said, “That was worth every second of waiting. You’re incredible.”
I drifted my hands down to his belt, fumbling with the buckle as I tried to catch my breath. “Your turn,” I whispered, as I worked to undo his button.
He caught my hands gently, bringing them up to his lips and pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “Let’s slow down, love.”
“But I want to—You made me feel so good, I should?—”
“Tonight was about you.” He traced his thumb over my bottom lip while he looked at me with the most tender expression. “About showing you how incredible you are. I don’t need anything else right now.”
“Are you sure? I mean, you must be?—”
He silenced me with a soft kiss. “I’m more than sure. Watching you fall apart for me was fucking perfect. There’s no rush, love. We have all the time in the world.”
The way he said it, so genuinely, made my throat tight with emotion. I’d never been with someone who didn’t expect something in return, who seemed more concerned with my pleasure than his own.
“Okay,” I whispered, settling back against his chest as he pulled me close.
We laid there for what felt like hours afterward, just holding each other and watching the fireflies dance around us. I felt like I was glowing just as bright as they were. I never want this summer to end.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BAILEY - BEFORE
The next morning,I wake in a strange bed, in a strange room, with crisp clean air and the patter of rain hitting the window. It was so late by the time Ms. Harrington showed me to my “quarters” as she called them, that I took one look at the comfortable bed and passed out. It was a dreamless sleep, like I’d sunk into a dark pit and crawled out someone new. Someone refreshed. But now, as my eyes adjust to my surroundings, I remember that I’m not on vacation, that I have no clue where in the world I am, or what these people want from me.
The space reminds me of a summer cottage we rented when I was a kid. One main room and a bathroom with a large tub, with more bath products than I can count. To the side sits a small kitchenette with a sink, a mini refrigerator, and counter. That’s the only thing in the space that looks updated. The decor, the furniture, is antique-looking.
As soon as I step to the window, I pull back the drapes and notice thick lattice covering the glass like decorative bars. Then I hear a click from outside. What do I do? There’s nowhere tohide, other than the bathroom, but even that doesn’t have a door.
Standing there frozen, I watch the door slowly swing open and Ms. Harrington enter. She looks exactly the same as she did last night. Immaculate uniform, hair in a tight bun, no jewelry or accents that give me any inclination of her personality. It’s just her and the severe scowl that seems to be a permanent fixture on her face.
She looks me over with a raised brow. “I take it you slept well.”
“I—”
She waves a hand to cut me off. “You will bathe and dress. Sir wants you at breakfast in twenty minutes.”
“But—”
“There will be no arguing, no questions, and no exceptions,” she snaps. “Now get.”
There’s a hundred things I’d like to ask, but I know she’d bite my head off. I settle on the one that’s most important at the moment. “What will I wear?”
