Page 82 of Break Me

Love.

Devotion.

Promise.

"Tell me what you want," he says, his voice rough with need even as his lips curve into that smile that made me fall for him in the first place.

"You," I manage, my voice barely a whisper. "I want you."

He kisses the inside of my thigh, then higher, until his mouth finds where I'm aching for him.

"Don't stop,” I breathe.

His tongue moves with deliberate slowness, tasting and exploring.

My hips lift helplessly, chasing the slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue, and his hands tighten around my thighs, holding me exactly where he wants me. Every flick, every teasing pass, is perfectly timed, drawing another moan from my lips until I can't remember how to breathe.

Sam knows every part of me, every tremble, every gasp, every subtle shift of my body, and he uses that knowledge with devastating patience. The pleasure coils tighter and tighter inside me, each wave stealing another piece of my control, until there's nothing left but the feel of his mouth between my thighs.

When he slides his fingers inside me, working in perfect harmony with the relentless sweep of his tongue, I come apart.

The orgasm tears through me with breathtaking force. His name breaks from my lips in a cry I can't hold back. Still, he doesn't let up. He coaxes every shudder from my body, every trembling aftershock, until I'm shaking beneath him, exquisitely sensitive. My fingers tangle in his hair as I tug him upward. I need his kiss. Need to taste us both on his lips.

"I love you," I whisper against his mouth.

A rough groan rumbles deep in his chest, as though those three words undo him more completely than anything else ever could.

His gaze darkens with purpose as he rolls us over, settling between my thighs and pinning me against the sheets. The broad head of his cock nudges my entrance.

"Please," I whisper.

His forehead brushes mine as he eases into me with one slow, deliberate thrust, drawing matching gasps from us both. The stretch gives way to perfect fullness, my body welcoming his as though we were made to fit nowhere else but here.

He begins to move, unhurried at first, each deep stroke measured and intentional, and I rise to meet every one of them. Our bodies remember the rhythm before our minds do, finding it effortlessly, chasing it together.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs against my neck, his lips grazing my skin. "So perfect. My wife."

The quiet possessiveness in his voice sends heat racing through me. I tighten around him instinctively, earning a low, broken groan that vibrates against my throat.

His control begins to fray. Each thrust grows deeper, harder, more desperate than the last. I feel the tension gathering between us again, impossibly fast, our breaths falling hopelessly out of sync.

"Together," I plead. "I want to come with you."

Without breaking his rhythm, he slips a hand between us, his thumb finding me with practiced precision. The added sensation shatters what little control I have left. Pleasure crashes over me, stealing every coherent thought as I cry out his name.

Samuel follows with a sound torn from the depths of his soul, burying himself as close as he can get, his body trembling against mine.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. We stay wrapped around one another as our breaths slowly even out. Our hearts pounding against each other in the quiet that follows.

I trace my fingertips along his jaw, memorizing the face I'll never stop falling in love with, and I realize this is what forever was always meant to feel like—not perfection, but this.

Complete trust.

Complete surrender.

Complete love.

Raven