Page 95 of Outcast’s Return

The backs of his fingers trace along my jaw. I exhale into his careful touch. And I soften for him.

Fabien glides down my body, starting with kisses on my neck, and then on my breasts, and then on my stomach. His hands track down my curves as he savors every inch.

It’s like he’s trying to put me back together with his lips.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this?” he asks me while his thumb arcs around my breast. “All those forbidden dreams of this?”

I can only imagine.

I let out a sigh as his lips reach my inner thighs.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to taste you?”

“Fabien... please...”

I can’t believe how hard I’m begging for him.

His mouth finds my weak spot, and he undoes me. His fingers curl inside. He teases me just enough that I can’t help but let his name escape my lips.

“Fabien.”

Our breathing finds a shared rhythm. He feels so steady. So real. Everything fades out. All sound blurs. Heat and pressure take hold of me as Fabien tastes me. And I lose all track of time. All I know is him, and his lips, and how his tongue and his fingers can do terrible, incredible things to me.

“Fabien...”

I moan into a finish. The surprise of its intensity rattles my body from my core to my fingertips.

And still, Fabien continues.

I moan again. The wave of pleasure crests yet again.

I really can’t believe what he can do to me.

“Fabien!”

And then he’s kissing my lips again, and all I can hear is my heartbeat thumping in my head.

“You want me?” Fabien asks breathlessly.

“Yes, I do.”

“You want me fully?”

“I do, I do, I do.”

“Even after everything we’ve done to each other?”

“Always.”

“I’ve been starving for this, Jolie.”

And then, he enters me. And I fully surrender to him. Forgiveness and need merge in one long exhale of relief.

Fabien groans as my hands pull him closer. History’s layers are being discarded all around us. Every motion is urgent. With every moment of him inside me, our defenses are stripped away until there’s nothing left but our beating hearts and a memory of connection in the dark.

He asks if I know how long he’s wanted this? Well... how about me? Does he know how long I’ve wanted this?

I let out another sigh.