Page 12 of Devoted Love: A BWWM Romance

"Ryker, I'm about to…" I see stars, and the dragon who resides in me is awakened. Heat covers my flesh as a streak of lightning bolts through my body. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I can't hold out any longer. I scream, releasing the pressure, bucking and riding the wave thankful for his strong hands cupped around my thighs.

He lowers me to his lap. “What the fuck was that?”

“What?” My cheeks burn with embarrassment, I can’t meet his gaze. “It’s been a while.”

"Nah, princess, your pussy tastes sweet and smooth like mousse au chocolat." His mouth covers my nipple, and I'm speechless.

I'm a hypersexual person with the right man causing my body to become a ball of sexual energy. Admitting this is what freaks men out. So, I can't tell Ryker and risk running him off. Not after I've waited so long to have him. I cradle his head, running my hands through his thick hair as he feasts on me.

"Ryker, you have to let me shower, or we'll have makeup all over your walls." I pull back his face.

"I don't care, but I'd rather have you in my bed."

We enter my bathroom, and I turn on the floor heaters. I lower her feet to the rug and start the shower.

“Do you mind?” She points to the mirror.

“No, use whatever you need.”

Jordan walks to the mirror and removes the pink wig. I stare in shock.

"What?" She laughs, pulling off a cap, and I see her hair.

"I knew it was a wig, but…" I reach for her hair. Her eyes round, and I pull my hand back. "Can I touch it?"

“Yes.”

Our eyes hold in the mirror, and I reach for her hair. "Your hair is probably the third thing that stood out to me."

“You have a list.”

"It's how I process things." I shrug. I'm talking too much. I comb my fingers through her hair until the individual locks start to tumble, falling to her waist. I squeeze a handful and bring them to my nose. "Your hair smells amazing."

"Stop." She covers her smile, and I take a deep inhale. "Tell me number two."

“Your tattoos.” Her soft gasp tells me my response caught her by surprise. But seeing the color etched across her skin makes me want to explore every inch of her body.

“And one?”

"Your eyes." I step closer, kissing her shoulder. I watch her for a moment. I tell Jordan it's her eyes, but there's something about the way she listens. Really listens.

In my profession, most people listen to respond, picking apart every word. Not Jordan. Her eyes hold no judgment, no pretense. Her eyes hold a level of absolute wonder.

The steam of the shower fills the room. She turns around facing me, and I undress her. The skirt and tulle attachment. The pink halter. She doesn't rush to cover her body. I reach for the piercing through her nipple. I caress it until a moan escapes.

“Do you always leave the house without panties?”

Her head falls back, and laughter spills out. "I hate them."

“Panties?”

She covers her mouth again, and I pull her hands aside. Her laugh sounds like pure joy.

"So, you mean to tell me every time I've seen you, you've been commando?" She nods, and it's my turn to groan. "You shouldn't tell me things like that."

“Why?”

“Because I’ll think about mousse au chocolat.”

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