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"Isn't it too much?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
"Nothing's too much for you, Nora." He stands, towering over me, and there's that edge of possessiveness again. "I want you to have everything. Anything you want, it's yours."
And damn if that doesn't make me feel like the most important girl in the world. I want to tell him that he doesn't need to buy me pretty things—that his smile, his touch, the way he looks at me like I'm the only woman on earth is more than enough.
But then he's kissing me, hard and deep, and I'm lost in the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against mine. It's passionate and raw, and I can't bring myself to pull away, not even when the rational part of my brain is reminding me that we should be careful. That my dad might see.
The truth is, Sawyer Blackwood has become the most addictive thing in my world, and as we stumble inside, hands roaming and lips locked, I can't find it in me to care about anything else.
I know I'm playing with fire, but God, if this isn't the hottest, most exhilarating burn I've ever felt.
And suddenly I want to try something. I want to make Sawyer feel how good he makes me feel.
So, I drop to my knees in front of him and look up at him shyly as I start to unbuckle his belt.
His breath hitches as he watches me.
"S-Sweetheart," he stammers, his big, calloused hands reaching out to stop me. But I swat them away, my fingers fumbling for a moment as I push past his initial resistance.
It's my first time doing anything like this, but there's a fire inside me, an urgency that drowns out any uncertainty. I can't ignore the way his breath catches in his throat when I touch him, or the way his body responds to my every move. It emboldens me, reassures me that I'm not alone in this.
"Relax, cowboy," I say teasingly, looking up at him through my lashes as I work at the button on his jeans. His eyes never leave mine. They're dark and filled with something intense—a mixture of desire and...vulnerability?
"Nora," he says roughly, his hands tangling in my hair as he lets out a breathless laugh. "You're gonna be the death of me."
But he doesn't stop me. In fact, he leans back against the wall, watching me with a kind of awe that sends shivers down my spine.
I want to explore him, to learn every curve and angle of his body until I know it as well as my own.
There’s a bead of moisture on the swollen tip of his cock nad I lick it gently. His taste is intoxicating—a tantalizing blend of masculinity and sweat that leeches into my skin and leaves me wanting more.
His hands fist in my hair, and there’s a thump as his head falls back against the wall as I slide him all the way into my mouth—taking as much of him inside as I can. I feel the head of his cock hit the back of my throat, and I still don’t have him all the way inside my mouth.
"Nora..." His voice is trembling, his body rigid as he tries to control himself. It's intoxicating, knowing I have this kind of power over a man like Sawyer Blackwood. He may be older, more experienced, but right now, he's at my mercy.
I'm not sure I'm doing it right—hell, I've only ever seen this in movies—but he seems to be enjoying it. His grip on my hair tightens as I begin moving my head, the pull of his hands guiding me. The sensation is overwhelming—the taste of him, the feel of him pulsing against my tongue, and the throaty groans that escape him.
“Fuck… darlin’…” Sawyer swears under his breath, hips bucking involuntarily. He’s fighting for control, his knuckles white where they’re gripping my hair. A part of me swells with pride. I’m doing this– driving Sawyer Blackwood to the brink with just my mouth.
But then he’s pulling me back gently, a string of curses tumbling from his lips as he gazes down at me with hooded eyes.
“No more, darling,” he pants out. “If you keep going… God.”
I blink up at him innocently, licking my lips clean. Just the sight of him—flustered and breathless because of me—it sends a thrill through me.
“I wanted to make you feel good,” I say softly.
He laughs breathlessly at that and hauls me up against him. “Oh sweetheart,” he murmurs against my lips. “You did. More than good.”
We stumble back towards his bedroom then—me
giggling and him grinning like a madman, both of us high on the taste of the other. His hands roam over me as he paws at my clothing, stripping me down with a primal need that leaves me breathless.
"You're beautiful," he whispers against my skin, his lips trailing a path down my neck and over my chest. The touch of his hands and mouth against my bare skin sends sparks of pleasure radiating through me.
He diverts to the side, tracing the line of diamonds hugging my neck, his eyes never leaving mine. "Perfect," he murmurs, fingers ghosting over the necklace he'd gifted me only moments ago. "Just like you."
I blush under his praise, heat flooding my cheeks. There's something about Sawyer Blackwood that makes me feel seen—desired—in a way I've never known before.
