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“How, tell me. What’s happening, I’m so very lost right now,” he begged, stroking the back’s of his fingers along hers, wanting something to kill in that second, namely the bastard who’d reduced her to this.
She wiped her face and sputtered out a few breaths. “You get an A plus. That was…” Her hands were back on her face, and he couldn’t resist putting his arms around her. “That was the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me and I know you’re telling the truth because you’re too noble to lie.”
He wasn’t about to correct her, enjoying her words and the smell of her hair like silk under his stroking fingers.
She pushed out of his hold and turned. “Sorry,” she whispered. “You just…smell so…”
“Smell?”
“Good,” she hurried. “You smell too good and I’m…not in my right mind and…you’re just…” She shook her hands and hurried into her apartment. “I’ll get my jacket and purse,” she called while he fought his smile.
He tempted her. What a sweet fucking victory.
He’d get more such wins. But she’d have to give them. He wasn’t taking a single thing after knowing what happened to her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hurricane woke to intense heat in his cock and balls. He opened his eyes, his breath catching in his chest at seeing Claire’s mouth on the head of his dick, sucking him like a newborn. Holy. Fuck.
He carefully opened his legs, his gaze riveted on the way her mouth looked with his cock between her sweet lips. His breath rushed out when her tongue appeared with delicate, careful, testing licks. She held the base of his cock in her fist, making him wonder what she knew sexually and how she knew it. He was never sure judging by her behavior. It was mixed. She acted new to a lot of it but which parts?
His breaths turned thicker as her sweet hunger bloomed into something mind blowing and highly erotic. He opened wider, stroking her head with his hands, not wanting to scare her off this time. Fuck, he wanted to taste her back. Make her burn like this. Her sweet moans were boiling him. “Claire,” he whispered pumping his cock in her hungry mouth. “Fuck, baby,” he gasped as she turned ravenous on him. “Oh fuck yes,” he shot out, moving up on his elbows and opening all the way for her. “You’re sucking me so fucking good?” He gave a seethe when her mouth played at the top of his dick with hot gasping kisses and licks before diving back down. “Fucking Christ,” he shuddered, pumping against her throat. “Claire,” he warned, heaving, back to watching her suck him faster. “Fuck, I’m gonna come baby.” He grabbed the sheets tight, not trusting himself as he pumped into her moaning sucks. “Oh FUCK,” he strained, lifting his ass off the bed and bucking in her mouth, praying he wasn’t hurting her. Her nails raked the skin on his inner thighs as his orgasm stormed through him.
Her gasp followed the tight pop of her mouth from his cock, the final blow bringing a groan from his heaving chest. The bed moved and then the sound of the door threw him from the ecstasy singing in his blood. He waited for thirty seconds, wondering where she went. Had Troy wakened? Wait…it wasn’t morning. He’d slept late.
He sat up, moving his legs off the bed, a lingering erotic moan escaping him as his body throbbed with so many fucking needs. He wanted to fucking touch her, where did she go?
He located his clothes and dressed, ready to know what happened.
Downstairs he found her at the sink, no signs of Troy Abner in the house. Definitely late in the day. He found the small clock on the side table. One thirty. He made his way to the sink, stopping just behind her, unsure of what to say and do. He opened the kitchen chair and sat.
“Oh, hi,” she said.
Hurricane angled his head, watching her washing dishes like she hadn’t just run downstairs from sucking his cock. “Why’d you do that?” he forced out quietly.
“Well, that’s what wives do.”
“Why did you leave?”
She grabbed a dishtowel and started drying. “Because I thought I was done? Did you not like it?”
Her words shook, putting him at fucking confused and worried about her. “I…fucking loved it and I wanted to do it back to you.”
She shook her head a lot, putting the dry plate away and grabbing another. “That’s not…the deal.”
“What deal?” he wondered, his heart aching to have her.
“The one you made, you said when I was ready, only when I was ready. You said you wouldn’t touch me.”
“Yes, I remember perfectly. And why are you touching me?”
She turned, facing him with the plate, her face a mask of pure confusion and worry. “Because…I’m your wife.” Her brows tugged together more. “Ain’t I?”
“Yes, you are,” he assured. “But I don’t want a wife who doesn’t want to share those things with me.”
Back to head shaking. “But you promised I didn’t have to till I was ready.”
“Don’t you…want to, Claire?” he asked, almost sorry he did.
