The One Who Loves You (Tickled Pink #1)(82)

I’m a writhing bundle of pleasure and throbbing nerve endings until he sucks my clit while he slips two fingers inside me, and suddenly I’m coming so hard and fast that I’m drowning in euphoria, chanting his name, mewling—mewling in utter rhapsody.

Forget diamonds. Forget shoes. Forget spa days.

That’s all trimmings and trappings.

This?

An orgasm so hard and deep and intense that I’m seeing colors I never knew existed?

I have found the meaning of life.

My body sags against the mattress as the last of the spasms fades away. “Oh my God,” I whisper.

“You don’t do anything halfway, do you?” Teague shifts, moving back up my body, pressing soft kisses over the quivering flesh of my belly.

“I don’t—I’ve never—it’s not usually—”

He lifts his head and smirks at me while he moves his chin just right to brush his beard over my breastbone. “You don’t say.”

I fling an arm over my eyes, but I’m laughing.

Laughing.

In bed.

With a man.

Who very clearly knows his way around my body, and who very clearly seems to be enjoying himself almost as much as I am.

“Don’t hide,” he says softly. “I’m not done with you.”

I’m pretty sure that orgasm turned my bones to magic pixie dust, and my muscles have never been more relaxed and jellylike in my life, but I still find the strength to twist beneath him and roll until I’m on top. “Excuse me, sir, but I believe I’m not done with you.”

He smiles.

It’s not a smirk or a sneer or a triumphant gotcha.

It’s a soft, affectionate, I know your game, and I don’t mind if it takes you a while to see what’s right in front of you smile. “I like you naked.”

I don’t think he’s talking about physically. “You should. I’m hot.”

God, his laugh is an aphrodisiac. I rub my very satisfied lady parts over his hard cock. “I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper to him.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

It’s raw honesty from both of us, and it’s scary, but it’s also so easy.

Vulnerable isn’t my favorite state of being.

But I’m safe.

And that’s what makes rolling my hips to take him inside me so much more than it’s ever been before.

This isn’t a power struggle. It’s not a negotiation. It’s not for social gain.

It’s basic, simple affection, yet it’s also the most powerful force I’ve felt in my life.

His eyes roll back in his head. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Just wait until next time, when I go down on you.”

He growls, rolls, and once again, he has the upper hand as he thrusts into me. “Big promises.”

I’m a shut up and just fuck me kinda gal.

But not with Teague. I want all of him. “We are—oh my God, there—not waiting another seventeen fucking years—you are so good at this—to do this—aaaah, yes—again.”

“You count—fuck, Phoebe, do that again.”

I clench my inner walls around his cock while he pushes deeper into me. “That?”

“Minx.”

“You didn’t count?”

“I counted seconds. Real time. And it was longer than seventeen years.”

He’s hitting all my favorite spots deep in my core, and he’s making my chest glow at the same time. I’m not convenient. I’m not easy to live with. And yet, he missed me.

I could get addicted to this kind of affection.

He links his fingers with mine and pins my hand to the bed, his gaze locked on me while he pumps into me, stroking my already-oversensitive nerve endings.

And I surrender.

I don’t need to be on top. I don’t need to be in control. I don’t need anything beyond this unexpected gift of being here, with him, tonight, letting our bodies do the talking.

The I like yous.

The I believe in yous.

The I support yous.

I don’t know how it’s happened, but being here, getting to know this man—he keeps making me want to be more. To do better. To reach higher.

I don’t know how to do the same for him, but he’s gazing at me like I already have.

And that’s what pushes me over the edge.

Not the insanely delicious feel of his hard-as-marble cock rocking inside me but the whole experience of being with him.

Of being with someone who sees the good in me in a way no one ever has before.

My second orgasm hits, and I cry out so loudly they probably hear me in Deer Drop.

Teague groans and buries his face in my neck, and I realize he’s coming too.

I want to do this again.

I want to give him as much pleasure as he’s given me.

For as long as he’ll let me.





Chapter 28


Teague


I should leave, but I’m too comfortable in Phoebe’s bed.

No, check that. The bed’s not all that great.

I’m too comfortable with Phoebe.

We’re tangled in the sheets, her on her back, me splayed half across her, drawing lazy figures over her bare belly while her kitten tries to help.