Fairytale Come Alive (Ghosts and Reincarnation #4)(75)
His hand cupped the back of her head, carefully twisting it so he could press her cheek to his chest as he replied gently, “I don’t know, baby.”
“I’m…” She hiccoughed through her tears. “I’m so tired.” She clutched his shirt tighter. “So, so tired.”
His thumb was drawing soothing circles against her temple, his fingers curled into her hair. She held onto him, arms wrapped around him tight, weeping.
He felt so good. Tall and solid and strong. Warm. Safe. His arms so tight.
He felt so… very… good.
He pulled her head from his chest and dipped his chin to look at her.
She looked back. His handsome face was full of concern.
And he was handsome.
So… very… handsome.
It made her heart skip.
His thumb rubbed along her cheek, trailing through the tears but his beautiful every-colored eyes never left hers.
“We need to get you to bed,” he murmured. “You need sleep.”
It came to her in a flash.
Isabella didn’t need sleep. She was tired but she didn’t need sleep.
She needed him.
Before her turbulent mind settled enough to stop her insane actions, she took her hands from his shirt and curled them at his neck.
She put pressure there, coming up on her toes.
His body grew solid again. “Elle –”
It was good he said her name because his mouth was open when she kissed him.
Since she wasn’t thinking, she didn’t think forward to what he would do when she kissed him.
He could have rejected her.
If she had been thinking, that would have been her guess.
He didn’t reject her.
His head slanted, his tongue tangled with hers and then overpowered it when he took over the kiss.
It was beautiful.
She melted into him and her fingers, which had itched to do it for over a week, slid into his hair.
The kiss was hard and it was wild and it left Isabella wild.
Mouth still engaged with Prentice’s, she tugged his shirt from his jeans, her fingers shoving in, up, encountering the sleek skin and muscle of his back.
That was beautiful too.
She dug her fingernails in.
He groaned into her mouth.
His groan slashed through her, blazing a heady trail straight between her legs.
She pulled her hands out of his shirt and her fingers went direct to his buttons.
At that, he tore his mouth from hers and Isabella made a mew of protest but he didn’t move away. She watched as he lifted both arms. Hands grasping between his shoulder blades, he pulled his shirt over his head, ripping it down his arms, the buttons of the cuffs popping as he yanked it off and tossed it away.
His chest was right there.
Right before her eyes.
And he had a beautiful chest.
She didn’t waste the opportunity he afforded her.
Her mouth went to him, lips, tongue, she tasted him, her hands roaming, fevered, desperate, wanting to memorize every inch.
Down she went, down, until she was on her knees in front of him. She tugged back his belt, opened his jeans…
“Elle.” His voice came at her as his hands settled at her jaw, putting pressure there to pull her up.
She resisted.
She’d found him.
She wanted him.
And she was going to have what she wanted.
For once.
She pulled him free, took his thick shaft in her hand then slid it in her mouth.
His fingers left her jaw and glided in her hair as he groaned, “Baby.”
It was all the encouragement she needed.
He tasted beautiful, he felt beautiful, he looked beautiful.
She couldn’t get enough and he couldn’t give her enough, bucking against her mouth as she held onto his hips.
God, she was going to come just from the beauty of it.
His h*ps jerked back, pulling free.
Before she could protest, his hands were under her armpits and he yanked her up.
“Pren –”
“Quiet.”
He shifted them around and sat on the couch, positioning her standing in front of him. His hands curling into the waistband of her yoga pants, he tugged them down, taking her underwear with him.
With a forceful pull at her hips, he yanked her forward. She fell into him, her feet kicking off her clothing, her legs opening, her knees came up and she straddled him.
He fell to the side, taking her with him, dropping to his back.
Her hand went between them, she found him, wrapped him tight, guided him inside, lifted her torso up and he filled her.
“Heaven,” she breathed.
Her back arched, her h*ps ground into him, tilting, grinding further, reveling in Prentice’s hardness buried deep.
Connected.
Intimate.
Isabella and Prentice.
She thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.
She felt his hand cup her breast at the same time his fingers touched her right there between her legs.
Her head tilted down to gaze at his beautiful face as his thumb stroked her nipple.
“Pren,” she whispered as her eyes locked on his.
Then she came, her body bucking, her sex rippling.
It was shattering.
It was magnificent.
It was beautiful.
Dimly, she felt his hands leave her as one slid into her hair, cupping her head, pulling her torso to his. He switched positions, moving her to her back, coming over her and then slamming deep inside.