Page 77 of Run to Me

He caresses the ink with such adoration; my heart leaps. “No. I get it touched up every year so it never fades.”

“How long have you had it?”

“A very long time.” The truth shines in his pained eyes even if he refuses to confess it aloud. Thirteen years.

“Jensen,” I whisper, his name both a fractured prayer and a breathless plea on my quivering lips.

Now I understand why he refused to take off his shirt when I stayed the night with him months ago. He said doing so would “hurt too much,” but he wasn’t referring to his physical injuries causing him pain from the effort. He knew I would reject the meaning of the tattoo because, at the time, I was rejecting him.

Bracing himself on a forearm, he leans down and brings us face to face. He skims a knuckle along my neck before pressing a fingertip against my racing pulse. “Do my feelings scare you?”

My answer is an honest one. “No.”

“Do I scare you?” The deep timbre of his voice sends an avalanche of shivers across my skin.

Never in my life have I been afraid of him. He’s intense, intrusive, and forceful at times, but he’d never cause me physical harm beyond the pleasure-pain I seek. Of that, I’m certain.

“Not even a little bit,” I admit.

“Good. I want you too much to be gentle with you, Maisy. You may be small, but you’re not breakable. Though I’m happy to try.” His lips curve into a sinful smirk, and my greedy core flutters in response.

“Try your hardest.”

When he climbs off the bed and tugs his boxer briefs down, his heavy erection sways as he steps out of them one foot at a time. “Spread your legs and grab your knees.”

I’m too stunned by the size of him to register his words at first. He’s big, beautiful, and a tad intimidating. When I rip my stare from his cock and meet his gaze, he arches an impatient eyebrow. His command filters into my brain, and I spread my legs for him.

With a satisfied grunt, he grips my thigh and drags a finger from my opening to my clit and back several times. I hold my breath, an attempt to appear unaffected when that finger sinks inside me.

“No games. I need to hear how good you feel when I take control of your body.” He adds a second finger and a third, pumping and twisting, coaxing all kinds of noises from me as I writhe on the mattress. “There’s my needy girl. Hold nothing back while I get you ready for me.”

I widen my knees, aching to feel him deeper. “Jensen, hurry.”

“Are you on birth control?”

“Yes.” I can hardly speak through my panting breaths, and the last thing I want to do right now is talk.

“Do you want me to wear a condom?”

I haven’t had sex in ages and never without a condom. Out of curiosity, I ask, “Have you ever⁠—”

“No, but you make the call.”

My gaze drifts downward to where he’s now stroking himself, and I make a quick and easy decision. “No condom.”

I swear he whispers, “Thank fuck,” before he makes his move, dragging me to the edge of the mattress. He hoists me in the air by the waist. A half-gasp, half-yelp escapes me when we spin and land on the bed, his head on the pillow and me straddling his face. It happens so fast I’m still processing the mechanics of his actions when he impales me with his tongue.

“Holy shit!” I cry out.

To ground myself, I curl my fingers over the top of the sleigh-style bed and rest my forehead on the back of my hands. His lips latch onto my clit, and I moan loudly when he sucks hard and flicks his tongue. Obscene noises come from him—gluttonous sounds of pleasure, as if I’m his first meal in a century. I squeeze his head with my thighs, a halfhearted attempt to escape the overwhelming assault of his skilled mouth.

With his fingers gripping my butt cheeks, he doubles down in his efforts to make me come. I moan and mewl and curse his name for the tears welling in my eyes. When my legs quake, threatening to give out, he slides his palms under my thighs to hold me up so I don’t collapse on his face.

He held back the day of the wedding when he went down on me in the bathroom. The man has a magic mouth, and this is a whole different level of…

“Oh my god, J. Oh my god! What the f-f—” The word cuts off when my abdominal muscles flex involuntarily, and my vagina strangles the fingers now stuffed inside me, clamping them in place.

He’s ruthless with nipping teeth and hard sucks, bringing me right to the edge. When he pinches my clit and shoves his tongue inside me again, I shatter. My climax blasts through me like a rocket. In seconds, I’m blinded by the most intense orgasm ever while convulsing and screaming his name.