Page 48 of Boiling Point
I pulled the sheet from her body, her bare skin warming under my gaze. She was breathtaking—every curve and hollow, mine to explore. To memorize.
I slid my fingers along her inner thigh, and she shivered in response. When I grazed over the center of her, she moaned—low and wanton—a sound I could have lived in forever. She was achingly wet. I parted her thighs with reverence, savoring the way she opened to me so easily, so beautifully.
“Perfect,” I murmured, voice rough with awe. “Already so wet for me.” Tension rippled through her as I slid a finger inside—hot, slick, devastating—finding the spot that made her gasp and pressing into it.
Her hips bucked. “More,” she breathed—half-demand, half-plea.
“Greedy girl,” I said, pride curling through my voice as I added another finger. Skin flushed, she arched into the sensation—writhing now, chasing more with her hips as I held her open.
“There?” I asked, curling my fingers to stroke her faster.
Her answer was a cry—pure need, exquisite and unrestrained.
I didn’t relent. Couldn’t have stopped if I’d wanted to. Every fiber of me locked on her—watching her come undone beneath my hands like she had last night.
No, not like last night. Last night had been about breaking through caution, restraint, and convention. Now that those walls had been obliterated, this was about heat, passion, and untethered desire.
Her head tipped back against the pillow, lips parted around ragged breaths. She was endless—a constellation of sensation—and I meant to map every star. She clenched around my fingers, and I answered—faster, deeper—building her higher,pushing her further. She arched nearly off the bed, and then she shattered—coming so hard I thought she might break my hand.
I eased the pressure but didn’t stop moving inside her, riding the waves of her release until they finally subsided. She lay gasping, chest rising like she’d run miles.
She thought I was finished. I saw in the way she started to close her legs and sink back into the pillows.
“Oh no,” I said, smirking as I pinned her open. “You’re not getting off that easy.”
Before she could speak, I lowered myself between her thighs and drew her swollen clit into my mouth—licking and flicking relentlessly. She cried out—surprised, desperate—a sound that sent raw heat surging through me.
“The ability to have multiple orgasms,” I said between licks, savoring her tremors, “is a beautiful female gift.” I sucked gently until she writhed again. “Which I intend to fully explore.” The words were muffled, vibrating against her flesh. “To make sure you get everything you deserve.”
She moaned, deep and low, as I teased her with the tip of my tongue. Her body was slick with sweat, flushed and luminous. She was close again—already—but I had no intention of letting up. Not until she came so many times she forgot her own name.
I slid a finger inside, and she clenched around it, desperate. I added another, pumping in rhythm with my mouth. She was liquid heat and velvet, wet and tight, and everything I’d ever wanted.
“You,” she gasped, writhing beneath me, “are insatiable.”
I smiled against her skin. “As are you, my dear.” My voice was a growl, unrestrained from someplace primal. “I want to see how many times I can make you come.”
She fisted her hands in my hair, urgent, frantic, pulling me closer as I drove her higher. I felt every tremor—everyshuddering wave—as she went taut and called my name like a prayer.
She shattered harder this time—shaking so violently it rocked me. I couldn’t have pulled away if I tried, not with her entire body clenched around my fingers and her thighs quivering against my shoulders. I wanted to stay there forever, hear her beg and moan and cry out until she was hoarse, but there were limits to the human body. Even hers. I drew back and let her catch her breath, skimming my mouth along the trembling insides of her legs.
“Numb.” She laughed, voice barely coherent. “My fingers…and my toes…everything.”
I smirked against her skin, then bit down, gentle but firm. “Shall we try for number three?”
Her groan was pure exasperation. Pure want.
I drank her in—sprawled on the sheets like some fallen goddess, gold hair tangled around flushed cheeks, skin dewy with sweat. She was breathtaking like this—wild and wanton and fully mine.
“Jesus,” she breathed—half protest, half invitation. “Give me a minute.”
I dragged a hand down her leg, savoring every silky inch. “Is that really what you want?”
She made a sound low in her throat—one that sent another delicious shiver through me.
“That’s what I thought.”
She squealed as I took her clit into my mouth again. Her hands were everywhere in a frenzy of exquisite need. She thrashed with every stroke of my tongue, one hand twisting the sheets, the other raking fire across my skin. I pinned her hips and sucked. Flicked harder. She clawed at my shoulders as if she could pull me inside her—hold me there forever. Her thighs locked around me, trembling.
