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I reach the base of his cock, my lips touching his pubis. He groans, stroking my hair in the most reverent, gentlest caresses. I’m so weak from all the orgasms, I start to tremble from being on my hands and knees.
Marcus’s second groan is frustrated.
“I don’t want you to hurt,” he reassures me quickly, bending his knees and pinning them to me. He’s holding me up. “I’ve got you, Leigh. I’ve got you.”
One after the other, he helps me until my hands are flat on his stomach and my elbows open to the sides.
He lets me rest on top of him. He’s easing me into him. Into this peaceful state only he can give me.
Maybe I have died when one of my orgasms stopped and the other one started. I’m in heaven. This is heaven.
“How are you?” He cups my cheek.
How am I?
I have his cock as a pacifier. His legs as hedges. His eyes as the dark orbs that tell me this depravity isn’t bad.
That we aren’t sick.
That I’m good. That what we’re doing is good.
This is everything I need. This world finally makes sense.
Although what he asked wasn’t a yes or no question, I blink once. Marcus smiles in understanding, pulling me closer to him. With my forehead on his stomach, Marcus keeps running his hands through my hair for long minutes.
He’s the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth. Every once in a while, I lick him, dragging my tongue on his hard length, then return to my sleepy state.
On that last long, delicious lick, Marcus tenses.
“Jesus, I’m going to come again.” His growl and the soft tug on my hair wake me from my half-sleep.
I whimper and signal no with my finger. No, as in, don’t hold back.
His cum is mine. He is mine.
I close my lips. Swirl my tongue on his length. Hollow my cheeks and suck on his hard length.
“Fuck, Leighton. Oh, Jesus. Oh, fuck,” Marcus hisses, his body jerking beneath me. “This isn’t how”—his cum spurts in my mouth—“this was supposed to be.”
I’m quiet when he releases his hold on me, peeking at him from beneath my lashes. Swallowing some of his seed, the rest drips down my chin and to his stomach.
I’m showing him it’s okay. That this too, soothes me.
He might be rough. He might be controlling. He switches from being sweet and caring to insane in the blink of an eye.
I’ve been telling myself I hate these traits in a man. This volatility. This burning intensity.
Truth is, I don’t.
Truth is, when the right person comes along, all of these so-called wrongs are the exact things that make him so, so, so right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Marcus
“Oh my God.” Leighton’s blue eyes shine bright for me. Only for me. “That was so fucking good.”
This isn’t the right time for my dick to get hard.
