The Strength of the Pack (Suncoast Society #30)(36)

He gently untied her, rubbing her legs, then her arms and hands. She reached out and felt his thighs, felt her way to his cock. She wanted to stroke it, to make him come, to make him feel even a fraction as good as he’d just made her feel.

“Careful,” he teased. “We’re not even close to being done yet and that might go off.”





Nate got her sitting up and then scooped her into his arms again, carrying her back into the bedroom. He’d already pulled the covers down and laid her in the middle of the bed. Leaving a few LED candles flickering on the dresser for ambiance, he turned off the lights and then climbed onto the end of the bed, between her legs, and kissed his way up her thighs.

Settling there, with his hands wrapped around her thighs, he started licking, sucking, enjoying her rich, sweet scent, the salty taste of her juices, the way she moaned and squirmed as his lips closed around her clit and he started flicking it with his tongue.

He’d carefully watched her up until now, judging her reactions, gauging whether or not she was really okay. He’d managed to drive her out of her head, away from her self-consciousness, with the blindfold and the sensory overload. All she’d been able to focus on were sensations and sensory input, not trying to gauge his reaction to her body.

She was a gorgeous woman of almost thirty-nine, of course she carried a few extra pounds. Her body had birthed a baby and survived things he didn’t even know about yet, things he was sure had deeply scarred her.

It made her all the more beautiful in his eyes. Only by making this first encounter about the pleasure and pain and not about the thoughts and memories rattling around in her brain did he know he’d be able to keep her there, with him, firmly rooted in the moment and what he was doing to her and not whatever she’d been through.

So far, so good.

Only once he was satisfied that he’d made her come several more times did he sit up and reach over to the side table. He grabbed a flavored condom from the drawer and rolled it on. He wasn’t going to make her suck him, but he didn’t need to make an unintended mess all over her that might undo everything he’d just accomplished with her.

And if she did decide she wanted to go down on him, at least it wouldn’t taste as bad through the cherry-flavored latex.

He stretched out next to her on her left side, taking her right hand and drawing it across her body, wrapping her fingers around him. Even through the condom it still felt damn good to have someone else’s hand there for a change.

He kissed her. “You may make me come however you wish, except you can’t f*ck me.”

Even behind the blindfold he saw her brow furrow. “Then why the condom, Sir?”

“Biohazard containment,” he joked. He rubbed his finger over the condom and then touched it to her lips. “Cherry-flavored biohazard containment.”

She smiled.

“That’s a beautiful smile, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

She rolled toward him, the hand on his cock slowly stroking him as she kissed him.

Then she started kissing down his chest.

He laced his fingers behind his head, more to keep them there and remind himself not to make any moves that might spook her. He suspected, at this time, if he grabbed her and made her go down on him that it would absolutely be the wrong thing.

He’d given her an order and now she was free to do whatever she wanted within those parameters.

When she started groping around and trying to reposition herself, he spread his legs for her, giving her room to move between his thighs. He intently watched her as she settled on her stomach, still stroking him with her hand but nuzzling his inner thigh with her lips.

That turned into her kissing his sac, making him struggle to keep his breathing steady, controlled, to make it last.

She seemed hesitant at first, not doing anything else but what she was doing, as if waiting for…

Something.

He wouldn’t move, wouldn’t speak. Her every motion telegraphed to him how her brain was struggling to process this, to recalculate her responses. She couldn’t see him, how he was reacting. He wasn’t—and wouldn’t—force her to go down on him. If she wanted to sit up and stop right now, he would.

He wouldn’t touch her. Not until he knew they were past the point of bad emotional triggers and he had started bridging and rebuilding her psyche with only good associations.

She seemed to gain confidence, her hands stroking him more surely, slowly, but deliberately now, no longer tentative. Her tongue slipped out and flicked his sac, more, until she started confidently laving her tongue over and around.

He drew his legs up a little, knees bent, giving her better access but still keeping his hands to himself.

She cradled his balls in one hand, the other still encircling his cock and she licked and sucked until he thought he might explode just from that.

He’d even closed his eyes, preparing to finally let go, give in and let her bring him over, until he felt it.

A soft caress, not a finger.

He opened his eyes and watched as she brushed her chin over the head of his cock. Beautiful, gorgeous, and terrified.

He felt it.

Part of him wanted to tell her what a good girl she was, but he didn’t know if that would help or hurt. He sensed she balanced on the edge of fight or flight.

Slowly, her hand stroking him fell still as she touched her lips to the head of his cock. Her tongue flicked out and tasted the condom, and he had to fight the urge to crow in triumph as she started working her lips around the head.