Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Wren

The creaking soundthat echoes through the room draws me out of sleep, and I smile, rolling onto my back as Six slides into the bed beside me.

Earlier in the evening, Papa trimmed his hair and shaved the bit that’d begun to flourish across his face, leaving Six’s skin smooth. I think he’s grown on Papa, who seems to include him in everything now, except sleeping in the house.

There’s still a small part of him that doesn’t trust him, I guess.

I snuggle into Six, breathing in the delicious masculine scent of cedar wood and metal, under notes of mint soap.

Hooking a finger beneath my chin, he tips my face to his, staring down at my lips.

“You want to kiss?”

He gives a nod, dipping his head and pressing his soft, pouty lips to mine. I dare say he enjoys kissing more than target practice with the sling.

His hand slides down my shirt to the hem, slipping beneath the fabric. Warm skin brushes over my belly and higher, to the small peaks that stand erect at his touch. The tickle of his hand massaging my breast and him rolling my nipple sends a shiver down my spine, and I tip my head back into the pillow, dizzy with want.

“I love when you touch me, Six.”

His lips find my jaw, teeth grazing across the bone, and he moves to my throat.

Sensations collide inside of me. I arch into his touch and let out a soft moan that seems to excite him, shown in the growl that rumbles into my collarbone. My hips grind against the mattress, and I capture my bottom lip between my teeth.

“My birthday is tomorrow,” I whisper.

He nods in the crook of my neck.

Papa already announced that he’ll be home early to make my birthday supper.

“Do you have a gift for me?” I stroke my finger along the edge of his hairline, above his ear, and his lips still against my skin. “I just want to go a little further. Just a little, I promise. That’s all I want.”

Lifting his head from mine, Six stares down at me with a serious expression, one that doesn’t wane when he pushes up from the bed until straddling my thighs, allowing the sheet to fall away from us. In nothing but a T-shirt and panties, I lie before him, watching him as his finger drifts down the front of my shirt, over my belly to the hem.

I roll my head to the side to see more of him, and to wait for what comes next.

Hands gripping either side of my waist, he dips his head and the first blast of warm breath scatters across my skin as he lifts my shirt. Higher and higher, it glides up my belly, and he feathers a kiss across my navel, glancing up as if to ask for permission.

Licking my lips, I nod and run my hand over the top of his head, letting the short spikes of hair dance across my palm.

He plants another kiss, low, just above my panties, before the fabric glides down, over my hips, my thighs, and when they reach my ankles, he slowly slides them off. Eyes riveted at where he removed them from, he pushes my knees apart, like the wings of a butterfly, spreading me open for him.

In the moon’s light, I’m completely exposed, and I stare down my body, as he settles himself between my thighs.

A tremor of nervous energy hits my stomach for some reason. I trust Six, but I feel on display. Exposed. Every flaw, every insecurity laid out across the white sheets below me.

I want to push him away, tell him to stop, and as the nervous vibration heightens in my belly, I open my mouth to do just that.

At the first touch of his lips, though, I suck in a sharp inhale.

His hot breath fans my flesh, and the desire to close my legs pulls deep inside my stomach.

Oh, God.

His big hands grip the backs of my thighs, keeping my legs held apart, and I watch as his eyes shutter.

A soft wet glide of his tongue follows.

My chest leads a sharp arch of my body, mouth gaping as he drags his tongue over the slit. Up and down, up and down, painting me enraptured with this delicious invasion.

I open my mouth to a silent scream, lifting my head just enough to catch the crown of his head, which dips with each dizzying stroke of his tongue. Like an artist, focused and savoring his work. His lips close over my flesh, and he sucks.

I slam my head into the pillow, and cover my face with it to muffle the outcry that erupts from my mouth. I’ve never felt anything like this before. A knot in the pit of my stomach coils tight, begging me to feel shame for what he’s doing to me. It tells me that this is wrong, that a man’s lips and tongue don’t belong there, that they shouldn’t bring so much pleasure that it physically leaves an ache and an intense craving for more.

My knees tremble with the urge to clamp together, to force him out of that sacred and dirty place.

I can’t. Oh, God, I can’t. It feels too good. So good, I have to stifle the urge to cry.

The way he feasts on me like a ripened fruit, sucking the juices from me.

Keeping the pillow in place, I moan and writhe with the wonderful commotion I can’t see happening below. Something probes lower, and when it pushes up inside of me, I arch up again, whimpering into the pillow. In and out, in and out. Up and down. Head rolling against the mattress, I try to focus on one sensation at a time, but they collide, wickedly stirring inside of my body. Until I’m dizzy, drunk on the feel of whatever he’s doing.

I lift the pillow to see his bicep flexing in time to the slide of what I surmise is his finger inside of me. It curves higher, and I grip tight to the pillow, smashing it into my face again. I slide my toes across his back, digging them into his skin.

As he licks and sucks me, his finger pumps into me, all these sensations working in perfect tandem, like a machine.

His hand—the same hand that threw those vicious Ragers from the vehicle, the same that snapped the snake on instinct—digs into my thigh with his reverent suckling, his palm gently stroking my skin.

A growl rumbles in his chest, a sound I love when he kisses me. A sound that tells me he’s wild, feral, and desperate to have me. His mouth is hungry and eager against me.

I can’t take it anymore. Something brews deep in my belly. I don’t know what it is, but it consumes my attention and winds my muscles tighter and tighter. I throw away the pillow and grip the sheets at either side, bracing myself for whatever it is.

He lifts up onto his knees, wrapping my thighs over his shoulders and palms my bottom, holding me to his face. I feel small and fragile around him, like a ragdoll he could easily manipulate any way he wanted. His tongue glides across my slit, and he sucks like he’s drinking the evidence of my arousal, moaning into my folds.

The first twinge of something strikes my muscles. The tightness from before coils in my belly, tugging at my chest. Tighter and tighter, it knots, my muscles trembling against his shoulders. I curl my toes and white-knuckle the sheets below me.

Part of me wishes to fight against it. To hold on. But the other part of me wants to surrender to it and let go.

So I do.

Tingles climb from my toes, shooting up my spine to the back of my head, where they explode into a wash of warm pleasure. My body jerks and spasms with each subsequent contraction that rushes through my muscles, and I slam the pillow to my face in time to cry out into the cotton barrier.

“Oh, God!” I arch into it, letting it seize every muscle in my body in some possession of passion.

My bones turn weak and useless, every muscle relaxed and spent. Breaths arrive slower, and the dizzy drunkenness settles over me as Six lifts the pillow from my face, exposing the after effects of my first orgasm.

A glossy shine coats his lips, which he licks away, and when he shoves his glistening fingers into his mouth, sucking on my juices, another spasm rushes through me. His darkly erotic eyes remind me of an animal’s, as he crawls up my body.

What he wants is clear on his face, but instead of taking it, he lies down beside me, pulling me into him. His erection presses into me, the hardness against my back as he grinds himself in false play.

I sit up from the bed, facing him, and run my finger along the scar at his chest. Leaning into him forces him back, and I crawl over his body, straddling him. My bare sex presses into his stomach, and his muscles flex beneath me.

He shudders and an invisible force tugs his chest, his hands sliding up my thighs as he lifts his head to look where I’m seated against him.

Exhaling a breath, he tips his head back, his hips rolling, spreading my wetness across his skin.

“Six, I want to give you the same,” I whisper.

His body turns rigid and stills.

I back myself down over his groin to his legs, but pause at the sharp grip of my arm.

He shakes his head.

“Yes,” I argue. “Please. I want to.”

His fingers grip tight to my chin, but quickly soften with the upturn of his brows.

“Are you scared?”

His tongue sweeps across his lips, and he nods.

I’m scared, too, but I don’t say as much. A number of times, I’ve read scenes from my books, wherein the woman takes the man into her mouth, but reading about it is not the same as when faced with the actual act. Still, I want to return the favor. I want this poor, abused soul to feel and know pleasure. And I want to be the one to give it to him. “Don’t be. I promise I won’t hurt you. Do you trust me?”

His eye twitches, but he nods, falling back onto the bed.

Trailing kisses down his stomach, I make my way to his pants, which I unbutton and glide over his perfectly sculpted, scar-riddled hips. I hardly notice his scars, anymore, though. They’re a part of him, etched deeper than the surface of his skin.

I take a moment to kiss the few scattered across his stomach, and when his fingers tangle in my hair, I glance up to see him staring down his body at me.

Dipping my head, I kiss another scar, and another, making my way lower and lower.

His penis lies erect before me, against his stomach. The map of veins over the surface pulse, feeding his hardness that’s thick enough to make me wonder if it’ll fit inside my mouth. The scent of cedar wood clings to his skin, and a scant amount of clear fluid collects at the tip, twitching my tongue with the urge to taste it.

I drag my tongue across the salty flavor, and Six jerks against my mouth. In my periphery, his hands fist the sheets, and I assume that’s a good thing, because he doesn’t try to stop me. With the fluid coating my tongue, I close my mouth around the tip of him, breathing in the heady scent of his arousal.

A quiet groan escapes his lips, and as his thighs steel beneath my sex, rubbing against him brings forth the realization that my juices are flowing again. Sucking him turns me on just as much.

I glide my lips down his shaft until his tip hits the back of my throat. A cough sputters behind it, and I sense him lifting his head. When his fingers nudge my lips, I bat them away, sucking him from the base to the tip and back down again.

Another moan echoes in the room, and Six bucks beneath me. I wonder if the pace is enough, if I’m too fast or slow, but then his fingers tangle in my hair and Six guides my pace, setting me into a comfortable rhythm.

His flavor is exquisite, and the feel of him filling my mouth has me sucking him with fervor. Salty skin puckers my taste buds, as I bob against his groin, settling into a cadence that seems to suit him.

His hips roll beneath me in time to my sucking, thrusting upward into my mouth. Deeper. I curl my hand at the base of his shaft to steady him, and my other hand wanders lower, to his testicles.

His moans turn into staccato breaths, hips bucking wildly with each stroke. Fists clutching the sheets at either side of him, he grunts and groans. I catch a glimpse of the veins popping out of his neck, as he tilts his head back into the pillow.

Warmth floods my mouth, and I pull away to see pearly spurts of fluid jetting out the tip of his penis. I clamp my lips over it to sample his release, and a quiet animalistic whimper follows. The thick fluid tastes like an intoxicating blend of sweet and salty, and I savor it a moment before swallowing.

A few final spurts hit the roof of my mouth as he finishes, and I lick away the last of him from my lips. When I lift my head, the pained expression on his face sinks to the very pit of my stomach.

He opens his eyes to reveal tears, and I can feel the heat filling my cheeks, the warmth of humiliation washing over me.

It was supposed to feel good. He was supposed to enjoy it.

“I … I’m …” Did I hurt him? A few times my teeth had accidentally scraped across his skin, but he never expressed any pain. “I’m sorry, Six.”

His brows furrow, as if he’s confused by my response, and he sits up, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me against him.

Lips pressed to mine, he tugs me back onto the mattress beside him, and I double-blink to hide the tears welling in my own eyes before he can see them.

“Did I hurt you?”

A smile lights up his face, and he shakes his head, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Are those good tears, then?”

He nods and kisses me, his arms enveloping me in a tight embrace.

Relief bathes my tense muscles, and I allow myself to smile, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. “I’m glad. I don’t ever want to hurt you, Six. Never.”

Like a spider trapping prey, he wraps his powerful thighs around me, drawing me into his body, and rains kisses over my face. With his heart beating steadily in my ear, I slowly drift blissfully to sleep.