I could feel the heat of her core through my jeans and I knew that it needed my attention.
Shifting down her body, I trailed kisses over her belly. Her hips were writhing as I hooked my fingers in the sides of her pink silk panties and tugged them down and off her legs. When they were free from her ankles her thighs fell apart and her feminine folds glistened with her juices.
My hands ran from her knees up her inner thighs pressing her legs farther apart, giving me total access to her center. When my palms reached the apex of her legs, my thumbs ran up the lips of her core, sliding her arousal along the seam of her entrance.
Her body trembled beneath my touch and I teased the swollen nub at the top of her sex. I traced around the base of her clit, which was throbbing and begging for my attention.
“Please,” she voiced the plea that her body had already communicated.
Torn between wanting to prolong her pleasure and wanting to taste her, I decided that I didn’t have to sacrifice one to get the other. I ran my knuckle along her slickness, barely pressing the tip of my finger into her tight canal. At the same time, I grazed my thumb over her pleasure button.
“Yes,” she gasped as her hands fisted in my comforter.
Seeing her response, I flicked my thumb several times over her clit before pushing my finger into her snug tunnel. As soon as my knuckle entered her body, her mouth fell open as a silent cry fell from her lips at the intrusion.
That’s when I bent down and replaced my thumb with my mouth. I licked her nub, sucking it into my mouth and tasting her sweetness as my digit was cocooned by the warmth of her inner walls contracting around it.
“Yes, yes, don’t stop, yes, please don’t stop,” she begged.
I flattened my tongue and hooked my finger and flicked the area that in some women held the elusive and secretive G-spot. I wasn’t sure that I was hitting it until she cried out as her body contracted in orgasmic bliss. Her thighs and stomach clenched as my finger was coated with her release.
I stayed with her, keeping the rhythm of both my tongue and my finger until her arms and legs relaxed and she melted into my bed. Her eyes were closed, and I took a moment to savor the taste of her sex, licking her and then kissing her once more as I pulled my finger out of her.
When I did, her body protested and clamped around me, suctioning me back in. The sensation caused my already steel hard rod to throb in pain as my balls tingled and tightened against my body. At this rate, I was going to come in my pants.
It may not have been five years for me, but it had been awhile. And for as long as I could remember, sex had been more of a maintenance thing than any real connection.
This wasn’t sex. This was more. And if I didn’t get myself under control it was about to be over before it even started.
CHAPTER 31
Skylar
Was this really happening?
Or am I dreaming? I thought as I floated in a cloud of bliss.
Hank’s lips brushed lightly against my inner thigh tickling me and I giggled as I opened my eyes. This was happening. I could see the top of his head from the angle I was at, but I wanted to see more. I wanted to see his lips against my flesh.
My limbs were heavy as I began to lift up onto my elbows.
“Don’t move,” he commanded roughly as his eyes flew to mine.
The gruff sound of his voice caused the seam of my sex to spasm as a tingle of bliss shot through it. My lady parts were saluting him, saying, “Yes, sir.”
I reclined back, obeying the order. I’d never been with someone that I felt comfortable relinquishing control to. Even Richie. He’d wanted to tie me up, and I’d tried, but I just couldn’t do it. Before he’d even secured the second restraint, I’d used the safe word I’d insisted on having.
But everything was different with Hank. I’d happily allow him to tie me up. In fact, just the thought of it sent a tingle shooting to my center.
Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, Hank stood up. As I laid perfectly still, I watched as he stripped off his shirt. At first, my eyes drank in the magnificence that was his torso. He was chiseled to perfection.
“Wow,” I breathed out as my gaze traveled across the broad planes of his muscular chest and down to his defined washboard abs.
That’s where I noticed a pronounced, jagged scar on the left side of his torso.
“I got stabbed,” he answered the question that I hadn’t voiced.
His admission caused my eyes to fly up to his. “Stabbed?”
“It was a bar fight. I was fourteen.”
“Fourteen?” I could hear myself repeating everything he said and wished I had something more intelligent to say. “You were in a bar at fourteen?”
“I grew up in a bar.”
“Oh, right.” I felt like an idiot. Of course, he had. I leaned up and this time Hank didn’t command me to stop. My arm lifted and I ran my fingers over the raised skin. “Did you have to get stitches?”
“Twenty-two.”
I’d heard the stories of Hank fighting. He had legendary status in this town. He was as known for his fighting as he was for the curse attached to his family name. Working at the bar, I’d heard the stories of him taking on three guys at once, picking grown men up by their shirt collars when he was just a teenager and tossing them out of the bar. Men peeing themselves when he stared them down.
But seeing the evidence of his brawls and hearing the stories were two very different things.
“My mom hadn’t been gone that long and some guys were talking shit about her.”
“They were?” I wondered who would talk ill of the dead, especially to the person’s son.
“They were drunk and she wasn’t an angel.”
Everything I’d heard about Sabrina Comfort had been from regulars. She came up a lot when Cheyenne was around because everyone who’d known Sabrina said looking at Cheyenne was like looking at a ghost. When they’d see Cheyenne, it would remind them of a story about Sabrina.
People said she was well-liked, charismatic, beautiful, and the term “free spirit” was thrown around a lot. They said that she loved her kids but relied on Hank a little bit too much. They also said he’d been responsible for his siblings even before she was gone.
“I’m so sorry.”
Hank glanced down at where my fingers were grazing the raised skin of his scar. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“I’m not talking about that. Well, I am, but I mean all of it. I’m sorry for everything you had to shoulder at such a young age. I hate thinking of you going through all of that alone.” I continued tracing the outline of his scar and I noticed that his chest began rising and falling in shallow breaths.
Acting on instinct, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the physical evidence of the trauma he’d been through. His hand threaded through my hair as I continued to kiss down his scar and across his abs along the waistline of his jeans. When I reached for the button of his fly, he grabbed my hand.
“Let me.”
I lowered my arms and waited, feeling like a present was being unwrapped for me. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, then pushed his boxers and pants down in one swift movement and stepped out of them both. When he straightened, his large, thick erection was jutting out of dark stubble surrounding it.