Page 56 of Manhattan Kiss

“You want me on my knees?” I ask.

“I’ll tell you where I want you,” he says. “There’s no rush. We have a long night ahead.”

I’m not sure I’ll survive a long night with this man.

He starts at my ankles, pressing a circle of kisses and then trailing his tongue and his teeth higher, up my thighs, like he’s mapping out my body for scientific exploration. When he gets to my pussy, he trails kisses from one hip bone to the other, but he doesn’t do what my body needs him to do. He doesn’t plunge his tongue between my folds and bring me to a shuddering climax.

But I don’t say anything. It wouldn’t make a difference if I did. He’s been clear that we go at his pace and we do what he wants. And that’s okay, because I realize now that he knows my body better than I do.

When his mouth reaches my neck, my fingers thread through the back of his hair and he groans. His mouth finds mine and he kisses me, urgent and desperate.

He pulls back suddenly, leaving me wanting more.

“You might be the only woman to make me come just by kissing me.”

I try and bite back a smile.

His eyes narrow. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.

I feel beautiful. With him, I feel like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.

“I can’t decide on all the ways I want to fuck you,” he says, pulling a condom packet from his wallet beside the bed.

“Pick one,” I say.

He chuckles. “Getting impatient, are we?”

My entire body is aching for him. Can’t he see it?

“I want you, Deacon.”

He nods slowly and he stands. “I know.” He rips the packet open and slides the condom onto his straining cock, and I watch his muscles bunch and loosen as he works. My heart flutters nervously in my chest. He’s big, and I’m not sure how this is going to feel. But he’s said that it’s going to feel good, so I trust him.

His gaze falls back on mine. “Now I’m going to have you.”

He pulls me to the edge of the bed and opens my legs. “We’re going to go slow,” he says, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

His crown nuzzles my entrance. Part of me wants him not to go slow. I need him fast and deep. I want him to own me.

But he knows what he’s doing.

He presses in and I gasp, my hands fisting the sheets. He feels good, almost too good, like it’s about to tip into a pain that might engulf me.

“It’s okay,” he says, like I’m a wild horse he’s trying to tame. “Trust me. You’re so wet, I’m going to slide right in.”

I groan at his words, at the thought of him inside me, at the way he’s so hard and it’s all for me.

He pushes farther into me. “Relax,” he says, his palm spanning my stomach. “Let yourself enjoy it.”

Small explosions of pleasure burst inside me as he works farther and farther, goes deeper and deeper.

“Feel that?” he says. “I’m so deep in you right now.” The tendons in his neck are straining and his voice is tight. “We’re joined. You’re mine. I’m yours.”

I moan at the feeling of being owned by Deacon. Of feeling so full of him and I clench.

“Fuck, Aurora, if you move like that, I’m going to come right now.”

He slides out, inch by perfect inch, and he presses my legs wider before sliding in again, faster this time.