Page 72 of Love Notes & Lifelines
“You going to be loud, sweetheart?”
She nods while her body quivers and her hands land on my chest. Her fingertips sear my skin—a branding—as if I’ll only ever belong to her. A hiss of pleasure and apprehension slips through my clenched teeth.
“It fucking pains me that I won’t hear it all, but I want to hear something.” Sliding my finger from her pussy, I rub her wetness over her clit while I lift my free hand to close over her mouth.
She licks my palm, then nips at the flesh, and my body flares with lust so powerful, not even a tornado could tear me away from her right now. I like it, the pleasure with a little bit of pain. And I like that she gives it to me.
Our position is awkward as hell, but I keep up the pace while covering her mouth and staring down at her, attempting not to fall off the side of the sofa. Mere inches separate us, my gaze drilling into hers until she closes her eyes, shutting me out, and rocks against my hand. She comes with the beauty of the northern lights.
I’m transfixed, bewitched, and everything in between. I can’t take my eyes off her. She twists and bucks as her slick heat covers my hand. She cries out and the sound is tied directly to my aching balls. They tighten painfully with every noise she makes.
She’s always beautiful, but like this, unguarded and real, she’s ethereal.
Her lashes flutter with the effort of keeping them clenched tight, but tears leak from the corners. They slide down the side of her face, and I’m mesmerized by the sparkling tracks they leave—it’s a beautiful memory.
Her orgasm stretches out in slow motion, but I keep my hand moving. Her musky scent is one I’ll never forget. Tonight, she’s mine and I want to see how far I can take her.
I need to see how far I can take her.
She gasps beneath my palm, and her eyelashes flutter but never fully open. But it’s the way her body molds to mine, seeking, searching, climbing, that has my heart clenching painfully.
“One night,” I groan. I can’t help the pissed-off tone. I need to hear it.Sheneeds to hear it.
But when her body shakes violently from her head to her toes, I say it again, this time for my benefit, because the pride that comes from making Stella mine, even for a night, makes my chest convulse. I’m the king of the motherfucking jungle—and she’s my queen.
One night to want, but never to need. One night. It’s a prayer, a promise, and a lie all rolled into one.
The aftershocks of her orgasm might be the most beautiful part of this encounter. The way her eyelashes flutter along her creamy cheeks. The color that rose from within to cover every inch of her skin. And the way her toes curled at the very end, tightening every muscle in her long legs? That was something to behold.
Her eyes are closed as she traces my pecs with her fingers. It’s an excruciatingly delicious sensation. Each touch from her sends sparks through my body, short-circuiting my brain. There are no fears when I’m with Stella like this, and it makes me crave her hands on me everywhere.
I didn’t think her skin could turn a darker shade of pink, but when she finally opens her eyes, I’m pleased to find I’m wrong. Her cheeks burn. Are they as hot as they appear?
Lowering my lips to the right side of her face, I let her heat nearly scald me, then I sigh into her.
“You’re magnificent when you come, Stella Jane.”
I pull back and rest on my knees. She sits up instantly but doesn’t try to cover herself. There’s something about sex, maybe sex with me, that causes her to shed her insecurities—the onesthat make her walk with downcast eyes and slumped shoulders. The ones that have her cowering even as she bares her neck to the vultures.
It fucks with my head that I want both sides of this woman more than my next breath.
We sit there for a long moment, both naked and staring, but that insecurity slowly creeps in when I make no move to touch her again even though my cock is red, angry, and weeping for a taste of her.
“Is…” She scans the room. “Is something wrong?” Her brows form a small V between them, and my face relaxes. I’m aware of what people find when they pay attention—the crooked smile I inherited from my father. The same one that puts people at ease over a cocktail sends grown men running from the boardroom. But never have I encountered anyone who inspects me so thoroughly that I fear she catches a glimpse of the man beneath.
“Nothing’s wrong. You were perfect,” I say softly, perhaps even with a note of sadness.
“Were? As in it’s over?” Fire—it roars to life in her eyes now.
I lift one shoulder because no, I don’t want it to be over, but it has to be. “I didn’t bring condoms.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and pulls her knees up to her chin. I groan, and it’s a pitiful sound because the way she’s sitting gives me the perfect view of her pussy, swollen and ready for me.
“You’re stopping because you don’t have a condom.” Her teeth sink down into her lower lip and my cock nods in appreciation.
“Trust me, even that almost wasn’t enough to stop me,” I mutter.
Her cheek twitches and there’s a flash of a dimple I hadn’t noticed before. She doesn’t smile enough—it’s a travesty. If she were mine…
