Page 16 of Claimed By River

I don’t say a word. I want him. I can’t pretend anymore.

He leans in and melds his lips with mine, and this time, there is no audience in sight. Just us and the dark and the way my body opens for him like it has been waiting. I moan into his mouth, sliding my hands over his chest.

His hand slides under my shirt, palm hot on my stomach, then higher, cupping my breast, thumb dragging over my nipple until it peaks and I arch into his hand.

“Fuck, look at you,” he mutters against my lips. “All soft and shaking for me already.”

“River—”

“I’ve got you.” He strips my shirt off carefully, then the shorts, until I’m bare under his gaze. He looks at me like a feast he’s been starving for. “Pretty little wife. Let me look at what’s mine.”

The word mine does something to me. I shouldn’t want it, shouldn’t respond to this possessive bullshit, but my body doesn’t care about should. My body wants. He slowly sucks my hard nipple in his mouth, deep and hard. I arch into him as my body trembles with arousal.

He alternates between both nipples until I’m panting hard and whimpering.

Then he starts moving down. His mouth drags over my ribs, my stomach, the crease of my hip, unhurried. Like he has all night and intends to use it. His hands push my knees apart, and he settles between them. I have just enough time to understand what’s about to happen before he licks me, leans in and licks me, one long, slow stroke from entrance to clit. My head falls back with a moan. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open, and he does it again, more focused this time, circling my clit with the flat of his tongue.

“Oh, God.” My fingers find his hair, gripping tight. “Please.”

He makes a satisfied sound against me and doubles down, licking and sucking with relentless precision. His beard scrapes my inner thighs, the roughness contrasting with the wet heat of his mouth, and I’m already climbing, already close.

“River, I’m going to—”

“Not yet.” He pulls back just enough to speak, his lips shiny with me. “Ask permission.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” He blows a cool stream of air over my wet, swollen flesh, and I whimper. “Ask me if you can come.”

My face burns. I hesitate, then his tongue flicks my clit, just once, and I jolt. “Please,” I gasp. “Please, River, can I come? Please let me come.”

“Good girl.” The praise melts something in my chest. “Yes. You can come. Come on my tongue, wife. Now.”

He seals his mouth over me and sucks hard, and I shatter. The orgasm crashes through me in waves, my hips bucking against his face, his name tearing out of my throat. He doesn’t stop; he keeps licking me through it, drawing it out until I’m trembling, oversensitive and pushing at his shoulders.

“Too much,” I pant. “It’s too much.”

He finally pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at me with dark, satisfied eyes. “You taste like honey and sin, Nadia. I could eat you for hours.”

He rises over me, mouth shiny, eyes blown. My gaze trails down to find his cock straining against his boxers. He leans down, taking my lips, and I taste myself on his tongue, and something feral in me leans into it.

“River.” My hands fist into his waistband. “Don’t stop.”

He catches my wrist. “That’s enough for now.” His voice is strained, and he’s already pulling back. “I told you I wouldn’t touch you unless you asked. You’ve had a hell of a week. You must be tired.”

I don’t let go of his waistband.

He goes completely still above me.

“Never any of it.” My face is burning, and I make myself say it anyway. “My father had someone watching me from the time I was twelve. There was never a boy, never a date, never five minutes alone with anyone. And after I ran, I couldn’t afford to let a single person close enough to know my real name.” I swallow. “The first time anyone has ever touched me was three days ago, on your desk, and I’ve not thought about much else since.”

Something moves across his face that I’ve never seen there before. His hand comes up to my jaw, so careful it makes my eyes sting.

“I know,” he says quietly. “I’ve known for a year. I just didn’t let myself know why I was keeping track.”

“I’m telling you because I want you to know it’s you.” My voice shakes. “Not because I want you to stop. I want you inside me.”

He searches my face. “You sure? Because once I’m inside you, I’m not going to be able to stop. You understand that?”