Unseen Messages(123)



I couldn’t breathe. Tears shot to my eyes.

I didn’t know what he’d done but none of that mattered here. It didn’t matter because his actions had redeemed his past mistakes. He cared for us, protected us, and if that didn’t make him worthy of my trust and affection...then nothing did.

I wanted to speak but he wouldn’t let me interrupt. Pressing his finger over my mouth, he shook his head. “That isn’t some ploy to get you to repeat the words or a pity party to make you fall in love with me. I just had to tell the truth after living in lies for so long.”

I am.

I am in love with you.

Lying flat on his back, he sighed. “There, I said it. I hadn’t planned on dumping it all in one go, but so far, tonight isn’t going how I’d planned, so I don’t care anymore. I love you. I needed you to know that.” He gave me a shy smile. “And now, you do.”

“Galloway, I—”

Nerves shot him upright and he hovered over me. His eyes searched mine and then he was gone, sliding down my body to settle between my legs.

I stopped breathing as a half-smile decorated his face.

His hands slowly pushed my negligée up my hips. “Can I?” His fingers undid my bikini bows, releasing the swimwear protecting my modesty.

I never wore underwear anymore. There was no point. A bikini was much more practical, even in times like this.

“Don’t you want to hear what I have to say?” I whispered as his fingers tickled my hipbone, ducking to the soft, private flesh of my sex.

“Do you want to tell me?”

I nodded, biting my lip as the tip of his finger entered me.

His face darkened as he found how wet I was. His touch pushed upward, curling to press against the sensitive spot inside me. “Tell me after.”

“After?”

He smiled harshly, his face hovering over my core. “After.”

I cried out as his tongue slicked over my clit. My back arched, completely unsuspecting such hot, wet bliss.

His eyes pinned me down, licking me again. “I’ve been wanting to do this forever.”

I moaned.

Words.

What were words when his tongue adored me?

His mouth cupped me, warming, burning; his tongue drawing tantalizing circles on my clit.

“Oh, God—”

His voice was muffled, but his commanding growl arrowed my heart. “Touch me.”

His order bypassed my brain; my body obeyed instantly.

My hands dove into his thick dark strands, looping them tight. Even with months of seawater and sunshine, the texture was soft and smooth. Different colours shone in the fire around us: sable and chocolate and bronze.

My hands petted hungrily as his tongue worked faster, harder, stronger.

My mind shot to white noise. He became the most important person in my universe.

Him.

His tongue.

The tornadoeing pleasure conjured by his touch.

My spine tickled with euphoria, warning a release could explode within seconds.

I was lost in the shocking sensation from his devilish tongue lapping with determination and skill.

His one finger became two, turning to masters of ecstasy.

He wanted one thing from me.

He’d given me his truth, and now, he wanted mine.

He wouldn’t let me speak. But he would let me show him.

And I would show him.

I’d show him again and again and again...

And...

Oh!

I came.

My shoulders flew off the ground as my hands yanked on his hair. My body quaked, his fingers thrust, and his control over me never ceased.

His tongue soothed me as my tremors became spasms and spasms turned to aftershocks and aftershocks diminished to tormenting ripples.

I hadn’t come in so long (unless I counted my own ministrations), and I doubted I’d be coherent for anything but lolling on the blanket and fading into heavenly obscurity.

His chin glistened as he prowled up my body. My pleasure marked him, and for the first time, I noticed he didn’t have a beard anymore.

He’d shaved.

How did he shave?

I hadn’t noticed.

How did I not notice?

Probably because I was more in love with him rather than what he looked like. I saw past physical and saw only spiritual.

I adored him no matter what fashion statement or wardrobe he wore.

“I love how wet you are for me.” He hovered over me, his arms bunched with his weight. “I love everything about you, Estelle.” His tongue swept into my mouth, sharing my flavour, telling me animalistically that he owned me now and I couldn’t do a thing about it.

Not that I would argue.

Ever.

“Will you let me tell you now?” I stretched, taking advantage of being pampered like a queen.

Galloway’s eyes dropped to my chest where my nipples indented the gold silk of my nightgown. “Tell me what?”

“Tell you that I love you.”

He sucked in a harsh breath. “You’re not just saying that?”

“I’m not just saying that.”

“You love me?”

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I fall more for you every day.” I fanned myself dramatically. “And after that...well, I think you own my heart completely now.”

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