Brave Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #3)(19)

Over and over, he licks and sucks, he teases and torments, until I’m delirious with need, my skin a fevered blanket barely covering the nerves that are screaming his name. The light rain bathes my face, the sweet grapes scent the air and the heat of Tag surrounds me. I’m invaded by this moment, by this man. Invaded, body and soul.

As I spiral toward a shadowy peak that only my body knows, Tag pauses, releasing me as he sheds his jeans, cleaning his hands on them before he rattles a condom wrapper. I glance down at him, his eyes trained on me rather than what he’s doing. They gleam like puffs of pale smoke in the moonlight, challenging the beauty of her half-full globe above. She is ethereal. He is magnificent. He is a pagan god preparing to take what’s his. I am the willing sacrifice, laid at the altar of his perfection.

Water sluices down his wide chest, trailing over the ridges of his abdomen before parting to run around either side of his thick cock. My insides quiver as I take him in—so strong, so long, so proud. My sex squeezes in anticipation.

Tag rolls the condom into place, sheathing his massive length, and then places his hands on my knees. Gently, he presses them apart until I spread fully for him. Not once do his eyes leave mine as he crawls up my body to settle on top of me.

I feel the engorged head of him prodding at my entrance. My body sucks greedily at it, eager to have him inside me.

“I’ve thought about this from the moment I saw you washing these beautiful breasts in the tub,” he says, sparing a light kiss to the swell of one mound before he continues. “I’ve thought about what it would feel like to slide my cock into you, of how I’d like to do it for the first time with the taste of you still lingering on my tongue. And now here we are,” he says, easing the tip of his thickness into me. “It’s just as perfect as I imagined it would be.”

I hiss as he eases in a little more, stretching me, stretching me, stretching me, almost to the point of a bit of pain. He must know, too.

“A little pain never felt so good, did it, fair Weatherly? Do you know how I know that?” he asks, his voice dark chocolate. Rich cream. Black silk.

“H-how?” I pant, wanting him to stop, but praying that he won’t.

“Because of these,” he says, bending his head to swirl his tongue around one of my rock-hard nipples. “They tell me you like it. They tell me you want me to keep going. You do, don’t you? You want to feel every bit of me? You want to feel me all the way inside you, don’t you?”

Oh God! I squeeze my eyes shut, my body clutching and sucking at his even as he threatens to tear me apart.

Slowly, he continues, steadily pressing more and more of himself into me as his lips and tongue work magic at my breasts.

Lava is pouring through me and I’m drifting higher and higher on its hot wave. When Tag begins to rock against me, forcing himself a little deeper and rubbing my clit with the most delicious friction imaginable, the heat within me blazes out of control.

I gasp and moan uncontrollably, my tongue dry but for the rain that soaks its parched surface. Blood buzzes through my ears, blotting out every sound except for the purr of Tag’s voice at my ear. “Are you ready?” he whispers. “Because you feel so ready.”

All I can do is nod and hold on. So that’s what I do. I curl my fingers into the mud and I wind my trembling legs around Tag’s narrow hips, bracing for what’s to come.

With one withdrawal that takes him almost completely out of me, Tag thrusts back in, filling me up so completely that it pushes air out of my lungs in a huff. He swallows my exhalation with a hungry kiss as my body gives up its fight and begins its tumble over the edge.

Tag rides me in hard, deep strokes, unrelenting. His tongue tangles with mine and I raise my fingers to dig into his back. He groans into my mouth when my body fists around his in one tight squeeze. He knows where I am. He knows where I’m going. He flexes his hips and grinds against me, forcing me higher onto the crest.

And then I’m lost. Splintering. Flying.

My body begins to ripple rhythmically around his and Tag yanks his mouth away. His eyes bore down into mine, surprise reflected in them. “Oh shit, I can’t stop! I can’t stop,” he breathes desperately, straightening his arms and pumping his body into mine. “Weatherly!” he growls, arching his back sharply.

And then I feel it.

The first pulse of his orgasm throbs into me, throwing me back into a second release that sends electricity shooting all the way to my fingertips.

Ruthlessly, he pounds his body into mine until his tension eases. I feel it as his climax calms. The pulses come slower and slower and his rhythm changes to a long, deep push that presses my body into the mud. The sodden earth sucks at my back as Tag drags over my front, caressing every inch of my skin with his own.

Wetly, he slides over me, into me until we are both limp and drenched, covered in vineyard earth and filled with the delicious cocktail of our combined release. When he collapses on top of me, I close my eyes and listen to his ragged breathing, trying desperately to bring my own under control.

Every detail of this moment sears itself onto my brain—the fragrance of the grapes, the tap of the rain, the cool of the mud, the dark of the night. Permeating each of those fragments is the feel of Tag within me, his weight atop me, his desire moving through me. He holds the pieces together like a thread that weaves in and around every sight, every sound, every feeling.