Bait (Wake, #1)(68)

I moaned.

He peeked.

I smiled, because I was caught.

I only had one option. Kiss him with it still in my mouth.

I lunged up to his mouth and paused right before our lips made contact. This wasn't some normal cheesecake, this was crack. After he got a taste, I was certain he'd do anything for more. It was going to be beautiful torture.

Our mouths collided. A low growl came from his chest and he steadied himself against my shoulders and pried our mouths apart.

“You're in deep shit,” he said and licked his lips.

Then his tongue. Then his lips again.

I was lost. I couldn't even answer.

“I'm getting that cake, honeybee,” he said as he took the bag, the cake and the fork from my hands and lap. He placed it on the bedside table. “I might even want both pieces now.”

My shoulders shook as my chuckle tumbled out. “You've got a lot of work to do.”

“Maybe even overtime,” he added like the Devil.

“Maybe. You better get shakin'. I plan on having both of my cakes and eating them in front of you.”

He ripped his shirt over his body and threw it across the room, not even caring enough to see that it landed on the wall sconce by the television.

My cheeks hurt from smiling.

He kicked off his shoes.

“You look good, by the way,” he said as he undressed himself. Tossing socks and shoes anywhere they landed. His jeans came off and then he was just a man in boxers grinning ear to ear.

“Thanks, so do you.”

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, but it sounded more like a warning. The smile from his mouth was gone—he had put his game face on—but it was still present in his eyes.

He sunk a knee into the top of the feather bed and like a lion teasing his prey he waited for the right moment. Then he took my body by storm, stripping me of every stich I wore.

A better woman than me could say she resisted, but I couldn't. I'm not that good of a woman. I gave my body to him. He kissed my legs and my stomach. He did things to me with his fingers that made the levity of the earlier moment transform into meditation. Every muscle I possessed flexed at one time or another, of their own free will, and at times I thought were odd.

His tongue slid up the center of me and he hungrily sucked at the most divine spot. He was merciless and voracious for me. It was then that the fibers of my lower back tensed and my spine arched, offering my breasts to the open air between me and the ceiling.

As he slid into me from behind—after rolling me over and then lifting me to my knees, his front against my back—he said my name. My hands balled and made fists with my fingers as I clutched his hair behind me.

My legs quaked. His hands wrapped around my waist and held me possessively as together we bent over. My face laid flat against the sheet. His breathing and mine synced to rhythm of our movements. Back and forth, push and pull, became the tide that the moon in my very being orbited.

He rolled me over and pulled me to the end of the tall mattress. Casey spread his legs so that our bodies could align at the right height. He moved my legs to his shoulders and began a measured pace.

He pulled the left side of his bottom lip into his mouth and then kissed my ankle, never taking his eyes off me.

“How do you feel this good?”

At first I assumed I'd only thought the words. It wasn't until he replied, “I have motivation. That's how,” did I even know that I wasn't mute after all.

“Motivation?” I panted. He deepened the pressure upon every push inside my body. His hips ground, swirled, and then struck again. It drove me mad.

Then something changed in his eyes. It was like his lustful bones and muscles and tempered skin were in the driver's seat, but his head chose to take the bus.

Our eyes met and did the speaking for us. They said everything our mouths wouldn't.

He looked exquisite and torn.

“What are you thinking about?” I whispered, like it was a secret and I didn't want anyone else to hear.

“I'm thinking about how every second that I'm not buried inside you, I think about this. And then I think, here I am, and it's still not enough.”

He bent forward and paired our lips, my legs falling to the sides of him. His hands swept under my head as he kissed me.

Our faces contorted. Not the erotic faces you'd want to see. But they were honest and didn't hide how they felt. I wished I were more like my orgasm face. It was the most honest of all my faces. Only with Casey though. Only with him.

We climaxed like that. Our releases finally caught up with us and rushed into our bodies as if it was but one crest and we shared it. My brow furrowed and my mouth fell open.

No sounds left our mouths.

No breaths took leave of our chests.

Everything stopped except a handful of pulsing muscles that met at the center of us.

It was neon darkness at zero decibels. Everything, and also just this one tiny, precious thing at the same time.

When both of our bodies gave up and the throb between us subsided, he inched his way up onto the bed and dragged me up with him. Then he collapsed on top of my chest.

I lay there and ran my fingers through his hair. It was sweaty in the back and it felt cool against my hot fingertips. As I breathed, a hum began in my throat that I neither agreed to nor protested.

It was the most peaceful moment.