Unburdening myself to him had brought me a relief I felt in my chest—a dancing lightness. I was used to feeling embarrassed—that awful shame—as I told the story. But I knew what Henry had experienced with Bernard, knew that he’d understand the way I’d been manipulated, blindly led from one mistake to the next. He wouldn’t judge me.
And he didn’t.
Instead, he fed me tea and massaged my feet and the words spilled from me easily. There was no fear in sharing a part of my past with this man I’d come to trust so fully. Only strength and a real acceptance; an understanding that I could only get better from here.
In fact, the only feeling I could realistically tap into as my body awoke from its slumber was lust.
Henry’s naked chest was at my back—I could feel the heat of his skin through the sweatshirt I wore. During the night, he’d kept the lower halves of our bodies a respectful distance apart. I shifted myself back six inches or so and was rewarded with his cock, pressed against my ass. A cock that was hard and thick, even at this early hour.
I gripped the pillow and allowed myself to indulge in the memory of Henry fucking me like a wild animal on the floor of that limo; the way his cock had stretched and filled me so deliciously; the nerve endings that sprang to life beneath his skilled thrusts. Before I could stop, I gave a circular grind against his lap and moaned softly.
My eyes popped open, afraid I’d woken him.
And I had—because in the next second, Henry’s arm around my waist was tucking me snugly against him. His fingers sifted the hair from my ear as he kissed me.
“Good morning, Warrior Princess,” he said, voice raspy with sleep. “Did you sleep well?”
And then he thrust his cock between my ass cheeks. It was not a movement with sleepy, early-morning intentions. It had purpose.
“Ye—yes,” I sighed. He did it again, holding my hips steady as he rolled against me. I pushed back shamelessly, and he scraped his teeth down my neck. “How about…how about…you?”
“I was dreaming about you.”
He continued to roll his hips as his palm slipped beneath the sweatshirt and traveled up my stomach. Henry cupped one of my breasts, and we both made a raw, guttural sound. My nipple pebbled against his skin; his thumb teased it, over and over.
“What about?” I panted. I was working my ass against his cock as firmly as he was dry-fucking it—half my mouth pressed into the pillow.
“Fucking you with my mouth.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Henry pinched my nipple lightly, and I almost tore the pillow in half.
“In my dream, I ate your pussy for hours on end.” His cock was sliding in and out through my ass cheeks—and even separated by barriers of fabric, it was igniting sparks of pleasure everywhere. “I couldn’t get enough of your taste.”
Henry stopped his ministrations, and I pleaded for him to continue. But he was only pausing to shove me onto my back. He sat back on his knees in front of me—nothing but sweatpants and the incredible outline of his cock through the thin material. His chest was lean muscle, stomach strong, brown skin and dark hair. His shoulders seemed even broader like this, arms roped with strength.
“Take that off,” he commanded, eyes as predatory as I’d ever seen them.
I did, even as my fingers trembled, then lay back against the warm, soft sheets in nothing but my underwear.
Henry’s eyes closed for a second, like he was in physical pain. When they opened, his expression was primal, body vibrating. I could see the effort it was taking for him to restrain himself.
I was getting off on it. I was getting off on the fact that I’d pushed this brilliant, respectful academic past his breaking point—that he was pure sexual need, and nothing else.
“Delilah, are you sure?”
“Yes,” I promised. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“If you give me this, I’ll take it all,” he said, voice low. “I’ll take everything.”
I didn’t give a single fucking thought to our jobs, Codex, or anything past fucking this godlike man who sat in front me.
I sat up, gripped his cock. Gave him a rough stroke that had him shuddering for breath. “Good,” I said, voice silky. “Because I want it all.”
His palm landed on my chest. He shoved me back, prowled up my body with obvious focus. His mouth captured mine in a hot, hungry kiss that had me arching off the bed. His lips moved down my jaw, licked along my throat. Henry kissed the edges of my collarbone, worshipped the valley between my breasts. With a strangled sigh, he took the entirety of my breast in his mouth, and covered the other with his palm, rolling the nipple around and around. His tongue flattened, sucking and pulling as I gripped the back of his head and held him in place.
The beginning of an orgasm was already fluttering deep inside of me—I could feel my internal walls clenching as Henry caressed and licked my nipples like we had all the time in the world. He tongued the swell of my breast, scraped his teeth along my ribcage.
Then his teeth traveled to my other breast, tugging the nipple gently.
“Oh, fuck,” I said, hips thrusting brutally. The pinch of pain and swirl of pleasure had me half out of my mind.
“Do you like that, beautiful?” he murmured against my skin.
“I fucking love it.”
He responded with a harder bite, using his teeth with devious intent, alternating with cooling breaths and gentle laps of his tongue. He took long, hard pulls of the greedy peaks, again and again, and I was grinding myself against his cock mindlessly, driven by friction and his talented mouth.
I caught him staring up at me as he fluttered his tongue against the tip, lapped at it.
I wasn’t going to make it. Ten minutes in and Henry was destroying me. My moans were already bordering on a wail—it felt extra illicit not having to mute my obvious pleasure from security guards or bodyguards or limo drivers. Henry wasn’t quiet either—his deep, rough groans were sending goosebumps ricocheting up my spine.
When he began shifting his mouth down my body, my hips went wild. Henry’s laugh was almost menacing—a dark tease. Wet, open-mouthed kisses moved down my stomach, my hips, my thighs. When he dragged my underwear down my legs, he growled so loudly he had to bite my inner thigh. Henry gripped my knees, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there. He pushed them roughly to the bed, exposing me. Even Henry couldn’t seem to tease any longer—his head descended between my legs and he inhaled me like a man consumed with lust.
Henry’s head was between my thighs.
Every semi-coherent thought felt like it took three seconds to penetrate the rational part of my brain. And I’d been right. Having his focused intensity on my body evoked a deeply satisfying pleasure that seemed to only heighten by the minute. I felt deeply cherished by his thoughtful attention to my every desire.
I also felt deeply debauched. A panting, hungry woman who’d do anything to get fucked.
His rough palm scraped up my stomach until he reached my nipple, pinching it hard, a delicious cut of pain that had me arching again. His breath feathered over my clit in short bursts, then he rubbed just his lips, up and down. Mimicking the motion with his fingers at my nipple. I cupped my other breast, watched our hands working together to pinch and tweak as he caressed my clit with his closed mouth.