Never Sweeter (Dark Obsession #1)(66)

Oh god yeah, the sensation was definitely getting to him.

But it was mainly the other stuff. She knew it was, before he even confirmed.

“I can’t, I can’t, I don’t want to hurt you,” he gasped, and she wondered if he knew what it sounded like.

More like I don’t want to seem as if I hate you than hurt you.

And especially after she replied.

“You won’t. I trust you. Go on.”

His expression shifted the moment she did, that frown dissolving down into the sweetest sort of relief she had ever seen. It looked to her like he’d been waiting for a hint of it for a thousand years, and now that he had it he could finally rest. He could just give in to everything he was feeling, without restraint or hesitation. No holding back anymore—and good god, was she ever grateful for that.

Just the feel of him easing into her—astonishingly painless and as easy as anything—was enough to leave her wasted. But the way he surrounded her with his arms as he did it, the way he kissed her, as though barely able to contain his affection and gratitude—it was beyond anything she thought sex could be. For the first time, she understood the connection between the physical and the emotional. Every hint of his tenderness toward her fueled the pleasure sparking between her legs, and every spark of pleasure made her cling to him tighter.

It made her kiss him back with the same need—like this was the last time she’d ever get to do it. And when he started moving, that feeling only doubled. Suddenly she couldn’t get enough of him. Her hands wouldn’t hold him tightly enough and her kisses weren’t as deep as she wanted them to be. Even smothering him with them wasn’t enough, because when she did he made the most adorable faces.

He tried to grin and gasp at the time, pushing himself into every one of the soft touches of her lips against his jaw, his throat, his cheek. Like a puppy, she thought, seeking affection, then only wanted to do it more. She nuzzled him back, and he pretty much lost it. He said her name over and over, hands fisting in her hair and mouth suddenly hard on hers.

Though he still didn’t do the one thing she really needed: move. God, she needed him to move. The sensation of his cock filling her was almost too much to stand—it sent this deep ache through her belly, all hot and sweet and good. It made her moan every time he so much as shifted position, that shaft so thick it brushed the best places inside her whether he wanted it to or not.

After the third nudge against that bundle of nerves, she honestly started to think she could come like this. Just from the pressure of him right there, right f*cking there all thick and heavy.

And especially after she tried a little experimental squeeze.

It was barely anything, really. She didn’t even mean to do it—another wave of sensation hit her and it just happened, like a reflex. But man, did it have an effect. The pulse that went through her was almost painful, so low down and heavy that she couldn’t even get out the moan she wanted to make. She just had to lie there, shuddering and bucking, as it tapered off.

Then rose again, with his reaction. His face went slack at the feel of her, eyes rolling up in his head. But most important, as soon as it really hit him, he seemed unable to stop himself pushing against her. Just a little, but a little was a lot when you had what he did. She practically felt him in the back of her throat. She had to put her hands on his shoulders and push down—though after she had she wondered why she’d bothered.

This time, that pulse was insane.

It made her grunt; she actually grunted, and her response to his shock was not the one she expected. He went utterly still, clearly concerned, and then suddenly she was moving. Really, really moving, as though she could somehow f*ck him from beneath all that bulk.

And as it turned out, she could.

All she had to do was shift a little and clamp his body between her thighs, and she could rock. She could work herself against his swollen cock, until that sweet ache returned with a vengeance. It took root in her belly, so hot and thick she wanted to scream.

Then settled for moaning. Lots and lots of moaning, and maybe some clawing at him, most of her lost to the realization that sex could be this good. Not even sex, really, because he wasn’t doing anything. He was just watching, astonished, as she used him—because that was definitely what she was doing. She was taking her pleasure from him, so eager she didn’t even stop to think about how she looked or what he thought.

Or at least, she didn’t until he gasped oh f*ck, baby, f*ck yes just do it, do it, come all over my cock.

After which, everything seemed to ratchet up a notch. His hand went to her ass and squeezed, urging her on and on until she was moaning his name and trembling all over. That hot mouth was suddenly back on her throat and jaw, kissing and kissing—and then there was the best part. The sexiest, most awesome part.

He started urging himself against her.

Not a lot. Just a little. Just enough to make the pleasure build and build to some incredible crescendo.

Before crashing down over her, hard. “Tate,” she gasped, “Tate.”

And then it was happening. Her * was tightening hard around his cock, that ache swelling way past their point of connection. She felt it in her clit and her belly, before it spread further. It stroked over her nipples and her throat, slowly turning into a fizzing sweetness she couldn’t quite take. She just jerked against him, filthy sounds pushing past her lips unchecked.