Page 63 of Claimed By the Guardian

At least he didn’t start back at her ankle. Was it possible to orgasm just from a tiny bite on her kneecap?

He pressed his nose to her inner right thigh while his hand stroked up to the crease between leg and groin. He kneaded her there, dipped his fingers into her moisture, and thrust two fingers inside.

She arched up with a cry. Finally, penetration. Not the kind she wanted, but her body didn’t care. She gripped his fingers and squeezed her legs around him until she grew weak with the effort. It didn’t move him an inch, though he did continue to scrape teeth and tongue along her inner thigh.

He kept pumping into her. Two fingers. Three. He did it casually, as if he barely noticed the rhythm he set inside her while his mouth tasted her thigh.

His mouth was so close that he had to adjust his position. Her legs were fully spread, blocked open by his broad shoulders. His fingers were large and callused as they thrust inside one last time before pulling out to play in her curls.

She should have felt embarrassed. Hell, she did feel embarrassed by her own lack of shame. But the need was too strong and she was without words to cry out, so she did everything she could to encourage him silently with her body.

He found her clit. His thumb rolled over it while she bucked beneath him.

Orgasm hit like a freight train, speeding through her mind and body as it obliterated everything. But when it eased, she realized he hadn’t moved. He was poised above her, apparently ready for when the first rush passed.

She lifted her head an inch to see him better. It was all the strength she had. She met his gaze and saw a dark triumph there. Joy at her orgasm. Pride that he had given it to her. Then he ducked his head and put his tongue to her clit.

Another contraction hit, fast and hard. Her belly pulled with the force of it, and she cried out in shock. He eased off her for a second, maybe two, then he returned. His tongue was thick and sweet where she was most sensitive.

She nearly said it then. “No” was on the tip of her tongue. It was too much, too soon, and she didn’t need more oral. She wanted him inside her, but he was gentle as he worked her, never pushing her quite to that place. He eased off to let her catch her breath, then swooped back in when she began to gather her wits.

Each moment became a rolling orgasm of yes. Of Hank. Of pleasure so intense she wanted it to end as much as she hoped it went on forever. Until she couldn’t catch her breath and her belly hurt from the tension. She pulled upward, grabbing his head and forcing him to look at her.

“Enough,” she gasped. “Enough.”

He nodded, his eyes dazed, but he didn’t move.

She levered herself downward. She tugged on his arms, she twisted beneath him. She did everything she could to get him on top of her so he could finally fill her like she wanted.

He refused to budge. He pushed himself upright. She managed to tug on his chest and press a kiss to his nose and eventually his mouth, but he would not go further.

“Hank!” she cried. “Please!”

His face was pulled tight with strain and his grip on her hips held at the edge of pain.

“Hank?”

“Do you remember when Peter kissed Abby?” he asked.

What? She didn’t want to think about anyone but him right then, but he persisted.

“She’d gone back to being human and he could see her. He knew what she was. She was afraid of how he would react, but all I saw was love in his eyes. Love as he kissed her. Love as he held his wife and his child.”

Cecilia nodded. Of course, she remembered. The scene had been so beautiful it had hurt deep inside in a good way. The place where all her cynicism rested had cracked, and the effect had been so powerful that she’d pretended to look away. She’d ducked her head to her tablet when her gaze had really been on them.

“I want that, Cecilia. I want to love my wife like that, to cherish my child no matter what.”

“Of course, you will.”

He shook his head. “I’m not saying this right.” He took a breath, his chest expanding even as his hands left her body to curl tight to his chest. “She loved him, too, Cecilia. All three of them, together. Such love. A real family.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“I want that, Cecilia. With everything I am, I want that.”

There was hunger in his eyes. A need that pervaded every cell in his body. And she felt his hunger echo inside her, an ache for a love that made three people stand strong in the face of staggering change.

“I want that, too,” she echoed. Then she tried to lift his face to hers so she could kiss him. So she could offer him everything they both wanted, but he shook his head.