Delayed by Nathan Kingsly (the false prince TXT) 📗

her lonely nipple into an even more vicious grip that I’m treating its matching pair. Releasing it, her hand untangles from my hair to replace it.

Gripping both hips, I don’t take my eyes off of her face as I grind my face into her, sucking her clit with renewed vigor. Back and forth, she moves her hips in perfect synchronization to my face. She’s so close; her thighs are shaking against the force of my hold on her. Her breath comes in pants. Then, her back arches away from the bed, mouth pops open, and a long primal moan escapes from her perfect sinful mouth. Not once do I look away as she unfolds from her orgasm, watching as she slowly comes back to herself. Only when her lips curve into a lazy smile do I stand and hover above her.

“Better?”

“We’re getting there.”

Raising an eyebrow, “Want more, do you?”

“I’m still waiting for all I can take.” Using that against me, will she?

“Then scoot that sexy ass further up the bed.”

Her head tilts up as if only realizing how far down she is. A happy giggle bubbles up as she wiggles up until her head hits just below the pillows against the headboard.

Crawling up the bed towards her, her legs open to let me in, and they cinch against my ribs as I lean forward. Her hands travel up my chest, finding a resting place on my shoulders.

My cock is a throbbing, thick, blazing hot iron as I wrap a hand around it. Squeezing painfully, I whisper a silent prayer to whoever is listening that I don’t spill like a minor getting a hold of his first porno.

My breath rattles in my chest as I glide the head against her slick pussy lips. Her hips twist in anticipation, and I have to bite down on my inner cheek with how tempting she is.

“Shit,” I hiss, lowering my forehead to hers as the full force of her tight pussy envelopes me.

She gasps. Even through her haze, she’s looking into my eyes with concern. “You okay?”

“You feel like goddamn heaven,” I reply before drawing my hips back and thrusting to the hilt again. “I’ve never felt anything as holy as your pussy embracing my cock. It’s a religious Christ-on-a-cracker experience.” She starts to smile, and I place a hand over it. “Don’t ruin this; I’m close to God right now.” She rolls her eyes, and just as her legs tighten around me, her heels dig in, and I fall forward, urging me on.

With each additional rock of my hips, I release her mouth to have her only spur me on with her noises. Her nails dig painfully into my shoulder, and holy shit, if I don’t wish she’d leave marks. I want to remember this and have lasting proof of it.

Her thighs tighten against my ribs, and if they haven’t already, her nails make marks through the skin. Her sweet mulling noises taper off to make way for a cry louder than the first.

“Mother-of-Christ,” I say, passed me biting my lip in defeat as her orgasm clamps down on my erection. Getting a few more thrusts in before my hips jerk, and my body goes rigid as I follow her.

My breaths are coming out in harsh gusts against the side of her face. Some fly-away strands of her hair coming back to tickle my mouth with every inhale, but I can’t seem to move.

“So much for making love.”

“There’s time for that,” I state determinedly. “Practice makes perfect.”

With effort, I plop onto my back, and it takes us both a few minutes to catch our breath. My body, not used to the burst of activity, is protesting in the worst ways, but I have never done anything so well worth it.

Emma regains herself before me, and she moves to curl around me. The feel of her skin, her presence, is like a balm to everything that aches, and the next breath seems easier.

Her fingers skate across the puckering of my healing skin. A lot of my tattoos were broken and fractured apart from their other halves when they tore into my chest.

“How do you feel about it?” I knew right away what she’s asking. I’ve been avoiding the subject.

“At first, it was difficult to come to terms with it, but most of my tattoos are badges of pain and inner scars. The one that really matters doesn’t have a scratch on it.”

“But the one for your dad, it’s the most distorted.” She lifts up on her forearm, her hair tickling my arm that is still gripping her ass. As she runs a finger around the edges of it on my chest, she pauses halfway when she catches me shaking my head. “That’s not the most important one?”

Twisting my left arm, I look down at the most recent one. With us living together, I’m surprised it hasn't come up before, or even at the hospital when I wasn't allowed to take showers alone. She'd sit nearby, picking a tattoo for me to confess about; she’d made it into a game, keeping my mind off things. Yet, somehow we never got to this one. When I peer up to grab her attention, she is already looking. Her eyes scan it; every black line and faded to grey strokes healed in my arm, and I knew it would only be a matter of time before her hand would need to follow.

“Is this… ”

“For you,” I confirm.

“When?” Her hand stays there, gripping my arm, covering it with her warm embrace as she looks over with tears in her eyes.

“The day after I landed in Georgia.”

“But …”

I shrug. “You might have left, but I knew I would never let you go. Even then.”

One of her hands comes up to cradle my face, her eyes take in my features, and hers soften. The tears leave her lower lid as she leans over to place a soft kiss on my lips. My hand releases her ass to run up her back