Page 74

Then she took him into her mouth slowly, savoring his heat and the weight of him on her tongue. The taste was intoxicating—masculine, musky, utterly Gideon.

She loved the way he gasped, the way his fists tightened in her hair, the way his entire body shuddered when her tongue swirled around his tip.

She enjoyed the sensation of him in her mouth, the little grunts of pleasure escaping his throat. She wanted to learn the length of him, discover what flick of her tongue made him groan, what made him tighten his grip on her hair, what made him whisper her name in reverence.

She wanted to know him like this—deeply, intimately, completely.

So she explored him, moving slowly at first, then building rhythm, her hand working in tandem with her mouth. His moans were barely controlled, his hips twitching toward her, chasing the heat of her.

“Leila,” he groaned, his voice hoarse and wrecked.

His fingers tugged at her scalp—not roughly, but desperately, guiding her, telling her what he needed without words.

She grew wet with desire and whimpered, her body aching to feel him inside her.

Desperate for more of him, she hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder.

He gasped, his hips jerking forward. Then, with a choked sound, he pulled her close, cradling her face in trembling hands. “Stop,” he panted. “If you keep going… I won’t be able to hold back.”

“Don’t hold back,” she whispered, clutching his arm and pressing it firmly against her face.

He lowered himself to his knees. “I want to feel you from the inside.”

And she wanted that, too.

She silenced him with a kiss, tasting herself on his lips and him on her tongue. His breath shuddered, his fingers digging into her skin in a desperate attempt to anchor her to him. As if letting go would undo him. As if he could melt into her, slip beneath her skin, and never be separate again.

“Gideon,” she whispered.

“Yes, Leila,” he murmured against her mouth. “Say my name again.”

She did, uttering it like a prayer, like a plea.

He laid her down on his cloak and followed her, their bodies aligning perfectly. Their mouths met in a fevered kiss, their limbs tangled, the heat between them all-consuming.

His shaft pressed against her center, slick with her juices, ready to fill her.

She shifted her hips and felt his tip part her folds.

She cried out his name, asking for something she didn’t know what.

But he seemed to know. He pushed forward, slow and steady, until he filled her completely.

She gasped, her nails digging into the muscles of his back.

He paused, looking into her eyes as if to ask if she was hurting, if he could move again.

His face was a grimace of pain, sweat beading on his forehead.

She nodded, her lips parting in a silent plea.

He moved his hips, and she gasped.

He gripped her hands, fingers laced beside her head, holding her in place, grounding her.

Then he set a rhythm, his hips meeting hers with rising intensity. She met his every thrust with equal enthusiasm. They moved together like waves crashing against each other—wild, unstoppable, fervent.

Leila felt pleasure building within her again, fast and sharp. She shuddered, her back arched, her toes curled, her mouth opening in a silent scream as her release wracked her body, stealing her breath. She was hurtling among the stars again—except this time, he was there with her.