Page 84 of Midnight Valentine
The other half is in Theotown, searching desperately for its namesake.
A dozen times, I sit down at the computer to compose an email to him, but I always end up deleting it. I pick up the phone to call him but quickly hang up, my skin going clammy with a cold sweat. A voice inside my head keeps screaming hysterical warnings about looking a gift horse in the mouth.
I made a pact when I said in my email that we wouldn’t talk about each other’s crazy. I have to keep my word, even if it makes me grow even crazier.
Finally, on Friday night, he returns.
In the darkest heart of the evening, I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling when I hear footsteps downstairs. My pulse soaring, I jerk upright and stare at my closed bedroom door. For several long minutes, I listen to him rove around in the dark, going from one room to the next, pausing briefly before moving on.
I know it’s him, and I know what he’s doing. He’s checking on the work that’s been completed in his absence.
When heavy boots begin to ascend the stairs, my heart pounds so hard, it’s painful.
Outside the door, the footsteps pause. Electricity sizzles over my skin. Then my bedroom door handle turns.
It takes a lifetime for the door to crack open. When it slips a few inches wider, Theo silently eases into the room. We stare at each other through the shadows for a long, breathless moment, and everything I am or ever thought I was dissolves when I see the look of ardor in his eyes.
I launch myself from the bed and fly into his open arms.
My sudden assault doesn’t budge him a single inch. He simply stands with his legs apart, holding me up like he’s holding up air. My legs are wrapped around his waist, my arms are wrapped around his shoulders, my face is buried in his neck. Shuddering, I suck in a breath, taking his woodsy scent into my nose. “You’re here.”
He nods. His pulse throbs against my lips. Against my chest, his heart drums as madly as mine does.
I whisper, “I’ve been waiting. It feels like I’ve been waiting forever.”
He presses the softest kiss to my temple, his lips a featherlight brush against my skin. Then he carries me slowly over to the bed.
He lays me down, peels me out of my shorts and T-shirt, and throws them away with a low growl. He tears off his own shirt and jacket and discards them just as quickly. He opens the top button of his jeans, his hands fumbling, but my impatience is too great. I sit up, bat his hands out of the way, and rip open his fly.
His erection is a big, straining bulge beneath a pair of white boxer briefs. I press my cheek against it, nuzzling the pulsing vein that runs the length underneath. Theo sinks his trembling hands into my hair.
I pull down the waistband of his boxer briefs, and his gorgeous cock springs free. I grip it and lick it from base to crown, swirling my tongue around the engorged head. Theo sucks in a hard breath through his teeth.
When I take the length of it down my throat, he groans. He fists my hair and flexes his hips, forcing me to take him deeper.
I want more of his groans. I want him unleashed, as raw and starving as I am.
I scoop the velvet heft of his balls out of his underwear and caress them with one hand while I stroke his pulsing shaft with the other, still sucking the crown. I immediately get that groan I wanted, a deep, guttural one, paired with an involuntary shudder. I look up and find him gazing down at me with his hair falling into his face, his eyes filled with hazy wonder.
And a dark, dangerous lust. The intensity of it makes my heart skip a beat.
He pulls away and pushes me onto my back. He lifts my legs and hooks both of my ankles over his shoulders. Then he slides his hands down my shins to my thighs. Staring down at me with burning eyes, he runs a thumb back and forth over my wetness until I’m panting and rocking my hips in time with his strokes.
“Theo. Please. Your mouth.”
Without hesitation, he sinks to his knees and gives me what I need.
Gasping, I arch against the mattress. He swirls his tongue around and around, sliding a big finger deep inside me, then another. My trembling hands find his hair. Moaning softly and starting to sweat, I grip it as I flex my hips against the strokes of his tongue. The room is cool, but I’m almost unbearably hot. My skin is so tight. My heart pounds so hard it might burst.
“Not yet—with you inside me.”
My words are fractured and strained. I’m holding back, barely in control. He must hear the desperation in my voice, because he stops licking, grabs my hips, and drags me to the edge of the mattress. He shucks off his boots, tears off his jeans and briefs, positions himself at my entrance, then plunges deep inside me, so deep, I throw my head back to scream.
Nothing comes out. Pleasure has stolen my voice. I can’t make a sound as he starts to fuck me, hard and fast, pulling my hair and sucking on one rigid nipple, scraping it with his teeth.
He fucks me like he owns me, body and soul.
And he does. But I own him too. Every look and touch is evidence of his total surrender. Every kiss is one more link added to the chain.
