Until You (The Redemption, #1)(44)

The anticipation has been so high, the want building day by day, the desperation I have for his touch so fraught, that I know I won’t take much to detonate.

He lifts his head so that our eyes meet as his fingers find me. Arouse me. Seduce me with their deft dexterity and the buttons they push. A tease of friction on my clit. A slide to my slickness beneath. A guttural groan from him as he tucks two fingers inside my wet core followed by my blissful moan as his slow and steady movements hit each and every spot I need to be hit.

Crew watches me. Every sensation that flickers over my face. Every stuttered moan I emit. Every flutter of my lashes as I sink into the bliss his fingers give.

There’s an intimacy in the look. In his touch. In this darkened room and our soft sighs.

“You’re gorgeous.” He kisses his way up my torso. “Stunning.” His lips take their time to taste my nipples once again. “Sexy.” They slide to the curve of my neck and then to the tip of my earlobe, his warm breath sliding over my skin. “I want to make you come.” His lips find mine again. “I want to make you lose yourself so you can forget everything about today except for this.” Another kiss. “Except for me.”

My body burns bright. From the tease of his kiss to the skill of his hand.

“Crew.” His name is a plea to give me the one thing I want. His chuckle lets me know I’ve been heard.

Within seconds, Crew protects us and positions himself back between my legs, his hands on my thighs as he pushes his way ever so pleasurably, slowly into me.

Our joint moans of satisfaction fill the room as I stretch to accommodate him, and he fights to control the carnal need to race to the finish.

Crew leans forward, cupping the back of my neck, and kisses me. He takes a sip from them, his tongue sliding in and out of my mouth as he begins to do the same with his cock.

“Jesus, Tenny. You feel incredible,” he murmurs against my lips. Our groans become one as he moves slowly at first, his exhale my next inhale. Our hands roam—over sweat-misted, chill-chased skin, gripping and grabbing and needing the feel of our fingertips over each other. Our bodies meet in the most carnal of ways. In. Out. Gripped hair and curled toes. Hips lifted and backs arched. Gazes met and teeth sunk into bottom lips.

“Crew . . .” The next push in steals my breath. “Feels so good.”

The pleasure builds then Crew eases up so it floats back down. A lull of tenderness before he pushes us back up again with a quickened pace and a grind with his next thrust in.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he laughs out as I squeeze around him, milking his orgasm to come. “Wouldn’t I be so lucky to go like this.”

Our lips meet again. Our hips slap together as he picks up the pace, driving us into oblivion. Our bodies tense as we edge toward the precipice.

And then the pleasure surges like a tidal wave. Bigger. More powerful. Undeniable until it pulls me under and swallows me whole. My breath held. My muscles taut. A charge of electricity jolting through me that feels like it never stops resonating.

The surge hits over and over.

Harder then softer, then an undertone that pulses through me.

I’m lost in myself. In the way Crew has made me feel—mentally and physically—that it takes Crew’s own guttural groaned “Fuck,” to pull me from the haze of my orgasm.

I watch him as he comes. Shoulders tense, tattoos dancing with the flex of his biceps, tendons in his neck taut as he throws his head back and pistons his hips into me as he chases his own release.

He’s a sight to behold.

And watching what I do to him turns me on all over again. But it’s the way he comes down from his high that’s even sexier.

It’s the skim of his hands back up my hips. To my waist. To beneath my back so he can bring me against him so that when he collapses on the bed, he’s able to pull my body on top of his.

My head is on his chest, and his hand plays with my hair as our hearts decelerate.

As we soak each other and the moment in.

As we realize from here on out, nothing will stay the same.





CHAPTER NINETEEN


Crew




Jesus.

That was . . . unexpected. Heaven. Fucking incredible.

I mean . . . if that’s what baking Tennyson some cupcakes will do, I’ll start looking for a place in town to buy her a whole fucking bakery.

I move from the window where, yep, I’m staring in the direction of her house. I can’t see it, but hell if that doesn’t stop me from thinking about her and reliving every dick-hardening moment of the past few hours.

Truth be told, isn’t that what I’ve been fantasizing about doing with her for the past few weeks? Of course, it is. Was it better than what my imagination had thought it would be? Most definitely.

And if it weren’t for the girls coming home soon, I probably would have found a way to extend those hours to have more time with her.

The best part? There was no awkwardness when I kissed her goodbye at the doorway. No moment of regret. Just a look back over my shoulder and a sigh as I tried to process how damn incredible she is. It was.

And possibly how much I want to do it all over again.

I read the text from Dusty again. “She’s squeaky clean. Never married. No kids. Not even an unpaid parking ticket or missed jury duty to her name. You’re good to go with her.”