Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)

“Please what?” He rested his chin on her pubic bone, his warm breath fanning her belly.

He seemed relaxed, while she was pretty sure she’d lost the ability to form coherent sentences. She gave it a shot, anyway. Anything to get what she wanted, what she needed...what she would die without. “Taste me.”

“Taste you where?”

She beat her fists into the mattress, saying, “You know where.”

“If you won’t utter the word, then you’ll have to show me.”

Determined to push her past her comfort zone, wasn’t he? She slid a trembling hand down her stomach, glided her fingers through the tiny thatch of hair between her legs—he moaned—and tapped the swollen bud now crying for his attention.

His palm found hers, and their fingers linked together. They stayed like that for several heartbeats, lost in the simple delight of holding hands, a bond being forged between them. Aches continued to escalate, plaguing her, and the fever in her blood left her molten inside and out. She drew Daniel’s hand to her core and, upon contact, they both sucked in a ragged breath.

“You are liquid fire.” He lowered his head.

She held her breath, waiting, waiting.

Waiting.

Lick!

She screamed his name.

He licked her again and again, as if ravenous. “Never tasted anything so sweet. You’re like warm honey. My honey.”

His words...his actions...his sheer masculinity...he surrounded her, drove her need higher, branded her; every part of her responded to every part of him. No doors in her mind remained shut. No windows in her heart remained closed. She was open to him, her every secret fantasy laid bare before him.

He urged her knees farther apart. As far as they could go. Leaving her vulnerable.

“I bet you’re real pretty here,” he said, his voice strained. He ran a finger through her wetness, and she cried out. “I’m going to be on you every damn day.” He sucked on her.

The more she writhed, the more pressure he applied, driving her wild.

“Now, Daniel. Darling,” she managed to say as she panted. “I don’t want you thinking I’m complaining about your technique. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. But if you don’t get to the main event, I’m going to use up all my energy during the opening act.”

He stopped. Stopped! Then he released a heavy sigh. “Well, hell, Thea. You know I’m a slave to challenges. How am I supposed to live with myself if I can’t make sure you enjoy the main event more than the opening act?”

The truth suddenly became very clear. She wasn’t going to survive the night.

He got back to work, licking and sucking with an almost brutal determination. Her mind fogged; they were the only two people in existence, this moment the only time that mattered. She struggled to catch her breath, her every pulse point trapped in a wild frenzy, her body nothing but sensation and flame.

Her climax took her by surprise. One second she was grinding against his face, the next she was screaming at the ceiling, her muscles convulsing.

When she came down from the glorious high, Daniel was poised above her.

“I think you’re ready for the main event, sweetheart.”

The thought of having him inside her, of two beings remade into one, filled her with a longing so intense, she forgot all about her satisfaction. That had been the appetizer. She needed the full meal.

“I am, I really am.” She raked her nails down his chest. “Promise.”

“Unless you’re too tired?” he asked as if she hadn’t spoken. “Yeah, you’re probably too tired.” He straightened, as if to leave her.

She clasped his forearms, holding him in place. “You stop your teasing. You prove you can give me more—give me better. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He pierced her with a single finger, and her hips bolted off the bed. Then, as she raced toward another stunning climax, her sensitive inner walls clenching around the digit, he added a second one, stretching her; she was so wet, the glide remained easy.

So close, but not yet close enough. “I’m ready?” A question when she’d intended to make a statement.

“Not yet.”

She whimpered.

He chuckled, the fierce sound broken by threads of tenderness. “We’re together now.” In. “A couple. You know that, right?” Out.

Diabolical man! “Yes. Together. Couple.”

In. He hooked his finger, and she gasped, her hips once again bolting up of their own accord. “There will be no dating other people.” Out.

“No...others...swear.”

He was merciless, continuing to torture her, still thrusting in and out, slowly, so danged slowly.

Two could play this game. She reached between their bodies to wrap her fingers around his thick, hard length. It was so wide her fingers couldn’t meet in the middle, and so deliciously long. No wonder he hardly blinked about the micropenis comment. He had a macro!

She stroked him, her movements awkward and untried, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He praised her. “You’re making me feel so good, sweetheart, but it’s time for the main event. Only because you’ve been waiting on it, not because I’m desperate.”

If she hadn’t been so agonized, she would have laughed.

He left the bed with a strained “Just grabbing a condom. Or six.”

Right. Good. But as a modern woman, she had responsibilities of her own. “I’ve only ever been with Jazz. He’s my ex. And after our divorce I got tested. I’m clean. Are...” Wow, this was difficult. “Are you?”

Silence. The bed dipped and Daniel hovered over her, a beam of moonlight filtering through a crack in the curtains and spotlighting him. His expression was infinitely gentle.

“I’m proud of you. You did the right thing. Always ask.”

The words gave her pause. Why would she need to ask him again when—

Realization dawned. Always ask her future lovers. He might have agreed to date her openly, but he’d been serious when he’d said they wouldn’t last. A sick feeling churned at the bottom of her stomach; she ignored it. He wanted her, and he wanted the world to know she belonged to him. That was enough. For now.

“I’m clean,” he said. “If you’re on birth control...”

“I’m not.” There’d been no need.

“Condom on, then.”

He would have gone without one if she’d been on the pill?

He must have registered her surprise. “I always wear one. Haven’t had sex without one. But one day I want to go bare with you.”

Forget her upset. Her heart swelled with love for him. He might think they were doomed, but he trusted her not to betray him.

“I can’t get pregnant,” she admitted. “Well, that’s not one hundred percent accurate. I can, maybe, possibly, but it would be a one in a million chance.”

She expected him to ask questions. Instead, he caressed her tattoo, infinitely tender as his fingertips brushed her skin. Then he ripped open the foil packet and slid the latex down his length.

“One in a million is still a chance,” he said.

If only. “Bet you’re one of those fools who thinks he’ll win the lottery.”