She’s ready. We’ve worked on this recently. My fingers. My tongue. Gradually more. Teaching her to relax. To trust me more than she already does. Establishing her boundaries.
“I’ll take it slow,” I whisper.
“I want it. I do.” She pauses. “But you can’t get me pregnant that way.”
I fight my smile as my chest tightens. Imagining Lola pregnant with my kid. Giving Wyatt a sibling. It’s everything I never believed I ever deserved.
“That can be after. Condom for this one. Okay?”
Her eyes light up. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I check again.
“Yes, sir.”
I growl and push her back onto the bed.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
LOLA
He laysme down like I’m made of something precious. And then he devours me like I’m not.
His hands slide up my thighs, pushing the wedding dress to my waist. His fingers hook into my lace panties, the ones I picked specifically for tonight, white with a cherry stitched on. He drags them down my legs with his teeth.
His teeth. Everything this man does is crazy hot.
The lace catches on my ankle. He tugs it free and spreads my legs wide. “Are you ready to be worshipped, Mrs. Sterling?”
I suck in a breath. “Yes.”
He kneels at the edge of the bed. Hooks my legs over his shoulders and presses his mouth against the inside of my thigh and bites. Not hard. Just enough to leave a mark. A brand. I’m his.
Then he moves higher.
The first stroke of his tongue is slow. A long, flat drag from bottom to top that makes my spine lift off the mattress and my hands fist in the sheets.
“Hunter,” I gasp.
He hums against me. The vibration alone nearly sends me over.
He licks me like he’s memorizing the taste. Slow, thorough circles around my clit, then dipping lower, his tongue pushing inside me. My hips roll toward his mouth, and he grips them, pins them down, keeps me exactly where he wants me.
“Stay still,” he murmurs against my skin. “Let me eat.”
Two fingers slide in me alongside his tongue. He curls them, hitting the spot that makes white sparks explode behind my eyelids, and I cry out so loud it bounces off every surface in the barn.
He builds me ruthlessly. His tongue on my clit, his fingers working inside me in a rhythm that matches my heartbeat. My thighs start to shake. My hands leave the sheets and grab his hair, pulling him closer, grinding against his face because I’ve lost every ounce of shame I ever had.
“Hunter—I’m?—”
“Give it to me.”
I come apart. The orgasm tears through me so hard my vision whites out. My back arches off the bed, and my thighs clamp around his head, and I scream his name.
He doesn’t stop. He holds my hips down and licks me through every aftershock until I’m trembling and oversensitive and trying to push his head away.
“One more,” he says.