He leans to the side and places his beer on the coffee table. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promises.
As I untie the sash of my robe and let it slide off my shoulders, wafting to the floor and pooling at my feet, I stare down at him, my eyes locked on his, I tell him, “I know that, baby. And I won’t let anything happen to you either.”
He sucks in air through his teeth as his gaze lazily roves up and down my body. I don’t move even though every nerve in my body is screaming to feel him. I wait and let him see me, all of me. When he stands, he’s only a few inches in front of me as his hand cups my face, his thumb grazing back and forth over my cheek. My chest rises as my body recognizes his touch. His hand slides down slowly, his fingers dragging, gently digging into my flesh until he reaches my breast and cups it roughly. A small moan escapes me. As his thumb flicks my hardened nipple, I watch him. I watch how his gaze turns darker, his mouth parts, how his body rocks toward me ever so slightly as if he’s fighting the urge not to crash into me. Watching a man so virile, so strong and rugged, hold back; practice the discipline of fighting urges so he can drag out a moment and milk it for every beautiful drop of meaning he can is awe inspiring.
Connor Stevens awes me.
When his eyes move back to mine, we watch each other. He’s looking at me now; he wants to see how his touch affects me. I arch my back slightly, so my breast pushes into his hand. Again, it’s a silent conversation. We don’t need words. He knows I’m telling him I want more—need more.
Suddenly I’m yanked up, my legs wrapped around his waist, his hands cupping my ass. Still, we stare; his eyes never leave mine as he moves. In a few short steps, he’s reached his bed and slowly, he sits me on the edge. Dropping to his knees on the floor, he kisses me before nibbling his way down to my breast and sucking my nipple in his mouth. I groan. He continues his descent as his hands spread my knees. I fall back and pull my feet up, placing my heels on the edge of the bed and opening myself to him. The first flick of his warm tongue over my clit, my hips thrust up, but his large hand finds the lower part of my belly and pushes me back down, holding me there as he assaults me in the most violently beautiful way with his tongue and mouth. My hands fist the comforter as I pant and moan, rocking slightly into his mouth until my body feels as if it comes apart and breaks into a million tiny pieces of ecstasy.
My legs feel loose and Jell-O-like as he stands. “Roll over and lay on your stomach,” he instructs me. Slowly, I force my limbs to move and obey his command. He crawls on top of me, kissing his way up the back of my thighs, giving one of my ass cheeks a hard bite that makes me gasp, before making his way up my back. The tip of his erection is pressing against my opening, slipping back and forth through my wetness, teasing me. I arch my ass up to aide him, and after a moment he pushes inside of me. When he’s fully seated, he gathers my hair and fists it, pulling my head to the side as his mouth finds mine, letting his body weight rest on me. I’m completely at his mercy. He withdraws slowly and pushes back in again.
“Do you really love me?” he whisper-growls in my ear as he nips at my lobe.
“God, yes. I love you. I love you so much,” I pant, my heart ready to burst with emotion, my body riding high on the sensation of him inside of me.
“Then let me be your man, Demi,” he says, his pace picking up slightly.
“You are, Connor. You’re my man,” I promise, my voice rising an octave as he drawls me closer to release.
“Then let me handle this,” he continues before kissing my neck, the scruff of his day-old beard coarse against my delicate skin. “I need you to let me do this.”
“You need me to give up on you?” I manage between pants.