Page 86 of Babies for the Big Shot
“Then don’t pull away again,” she whispers.
Fuck.
I kiss her again, this time deeper. Slower. I taste desperation and relief and something else I’m not ready to name.
Her arms loop around my neck. Mine settle at her waist. We fit, seamless, as if we’ve always known the exact way to align.
And then we move.
We end up on the couch. I lower her gently, but when she tugs me closer, all the tension we’ve carried snaps apart.
Her fingers dive into my hair. My mouth trails along her jaw, her throat. Her breath stutters when I bite down, just barely, just enough to hear her moan my name.
“Nick…”
My name on her lips? Dangerous. Addictive.
“I’ve missed you,” she breathes.
I pull back just enough to look at her. “I’ve missed us.”
She touches my face, thumb brushing over my jaw, and for a second, everything else fades. The threats. The texts. The note on her floor. Rebecca.
Her eyes hold mine as she starts unbuttoning my shirt. She’s taking back every second we lost.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur.
“I’m mad,” she says, fingers still working down the row of buttons. “And scared. And tired. And… I want you. Right now. On this couch.”
I let her strip the shirt off my shoulders, tossing it somewhere behind us. Her hands skate over my chest, palms flat, as if grounding herself on the heat of my skin.
“I never stopped wanting you,” she says, brushing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
“Then show me.”
She meets my eyes, pupils blown wide. Her voice is quiet, but powerful.
“I need my mouth on you. I need to taste you. I need to forget everything but the way you make me come apart.”
Fuck.
I sit back against the couch cushions, legs spread, pulse thudding in every inch of my body. She kneels between them, eyes locked on mine as she pulls my zipper down slow.
No rush. No shame. Just thick, humming anticipation filling the room with static before a lightning strike.
Her nails scrape lightly along my abs as she frees me, and when her hand wraps around my cock, hot and heavy in her palm, I hiss through my teeth.
“Fuck, Sara…”
She leans in and licks the head, slow and teasing, savoring the first bite of something forbidden. I jerk in her grip, hips twitching, and her smirk is wicked.
“You’ve missed the feel of me too,” she whispers.
I thread my fingers through her hair, not pushing. Just holding. Just watching her open her mouth and take me in, so goddamn slow I nearly lose it right there.
Warm, wet suction. The swirl of her tongue. The soft hum she makes deep in her throat as she sinks down farther, testing her limit.
My head falls back. “Damn, your mouth is perfect. You know that?”
