Page 119 of Whispered Promises

“You don’t need to. I might combust if you don’t do something.”

I gasp at the sudden tug at my underwear, and I lift my legs to help him slide them off. His fingers stroke my exposed skin, and my body instinctively tilts into his touch. My head tips back, eyes dropping closed as my legs fall open, and I cling desperately to the sheets beneath me.

Torturously slow fingers circle my entrance, then spread me crudely open and rub my arousal into my skin. We groan at the same time, mine needy and his pained.

My hips buck as a thick finger slips into my opening, the movement sure and unyielding as it pumps into my heat. More fingers part me, exposing my sensitive clit, and my body arches almost painfully as wet lips fix around the bud and suck hard.

The noise I make is unrecognisable and animalistic.

Bry flattens his tongue, flicking around my clit in slow, meticulous licks as he slips in a second finger, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Both my mind and body are lost in the sensations. The slick sound of his finger fucking between my thighs creates a sensuous rhythm as he increases the pressure.

Glancing down my sweat-soaked body, our eyes meet, and the hunger in his ignites me, guiding me closer to the edge. It’s not a look I’ve seen on Bry before, this unfulfilled need, but shit if it doesn’t make me want to give him everything.

So I hook my hands behind each of my knees and spread myself as obscenely wide as I can. I want him to consume me. A low grunt spills from him, and he buries his head even deeper. The never-ending sucking and tugging on my clit has incoherent moans escaping me until my body has no choice but to free fall into a toe-curling orgasm. Bry doesn’t stop lapping at the slickness coating my entrance.

He shifts up the bed, rousing me from the sleepy haze. His arm winds around my waist, and he pulls me back into his chest, nuzzling at my nape.

“You’re so perfect, Rosy.”

I snort. “Hardly, but that was amazing.”

“I agree,” he moans into my ear, spooning me tighter.

“Wait.” I shuffle around to face him, smiling as he refuses to let go of his hold on me. “What about you?”

The tips of his ears heat a fierce red, and his eyes dart from mine. He clears his throat. “I…finished.”

My brows rise at his confession. I was so absorbed in my own moment, I didn’t notice that he had… Looking down the bed, I notice the damp patch near the end of the sheets, his T-shirt scrunched to the side, and his spent…ah…appendage.

“Oh.”

“It’s not usually over like that. I can wait longer. I was just so caught up in us being together, then you spread your legs like that, and it just…happened.” He winces, almost as if he’s waiting for me to mock him.

“The grunting noise?

He nods, face still heated.

Unable to hold in my satisfaction, I move closer, so our lips almost touch, and tell him, “I love that.”

Our kiss is sweet, sincere, and I push every grateful feeling I can into it. He matches it, reciprocating the growing feelings between us.

He pulls back, affectionately swiping a finger down my nose. “Tell me about your day?”

“My work’s boring,” I scoff with a roll of my eyes. “What orders did you have to bake today?”

He chuckles, snuggling me closer, then he gives me all the tasty details until his watch buzzes with the alarm he’d set for the oven.

FORTY-NINE

MAX

My chest heaves, knee bouncing as I sit on the edge of the bed, phone to my ear as I listen to the ringing.

It took me way too long to build up the courage to call. And I almost didn’t, too tempted to back out, but I can’t keep living like this. Seeing her again at dinner last night, excited as she watched us try the food she’d helped make, laughing and joking with us…I hate having to hold back.

“Hi.”

“Hey, honeybee,” I breathe, some of the tension easing.