Beauty Becomes You (Beauty 4) - Page 20

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Her hips swiveled onto his hand in a desperate bid for release. It eluded her, until she sobbed against his mouth. From the corner of her vision, she could see her breasts move as her hips undulated. They drew him, his gaze, his mouth. He couldn’t stop touching her and licking her. She couldn’t stop rocking in excruciating pleasure. They were locked in shadows of arousal and agony, one bleeding into the other and then back again.

Finally he tore himself away from her breasts. He placed his lips above her ear, murmuring words of sex and longing. You’re so beautiful. So sexy. So wet all over my hand. I can feel how hot you are there, how tight, can you? Do you wish it was my cock inside you, filling you up? I do.

Her cries grew louder, and his hand clamped down tighter. Tears of need slipped from the corners of her eyes until he found the words to push her over. This sweet cunt, pretty cunt. It’s mine. This and all of you. You know that, don’t you? Now come for me. Let me feel this hot little cunt come all over me. And it did, her muscles clamping down hard as an explosive climax swept through her and left her breathless and wrung out.

As she slowly returned to earth, he pressed light kisses across her mouth, mirroring the comfort she’d given him. With short strokes, he calmed the quaking, shivery muscles of her sex.

“There,” he murmured. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

She marveled at how easily he had turned the tides. How quickly he had turned his own reward into hers. She’d wanted to bring him comfort, but his happiness was too tied up in her own, tightly woven threads she never wanted to unravel.

When he pulled away from her, he licked her juices off his fingers. She stared in hopeless fascination. Tilting her head back, he kissed her deeply, pushing her own musky flavor onto her tongue and, she knew, tasting the salt of his own release.


Blake paid and carried out the two bags of heart-healthy meals from the grocery store. A small complication had kept Sophia Raider in the hospital for two more days than the doctor had predicted. Erin had refused to leave except for brief showers, driving herself to exhaustion with the few hours of sleep she caught in the waiting area—but no amount of persuading convinced her otherwise.

He felt relief that both of them were in Sophia’s home, sleeping. Erin had given him a list of low cholesterol meats and whole grains to replace the cheap noodle packs and high-sodium soups currently stocking the kitchen. With little money and even less time to cook, Erin’s mother had a pantry full of high-sodium foods. That had to change now, and it would, especially with Erin there to cook for the next couple of weeks. They hadn’t discussed beyond that yet.

Had she ever planned to return home permanently? If so, no wonder she’d bee

n uncertain when he’d asked her to move in with him.

Quietly, he let himself into the back door using the key Erin had lent him. The upstairs was still quiet, so he set about putting the food away. Despite the dinner hour, he suspected the two women would sleep through the night, which would probably do them more good than a bite of food. He himself was bone tired and chugged down a glass of apple juice before climbing the stairs.

He took a pit stop for a hot shower in the hallway bathroom before finding Erin’s room. They hadn’t really discussed whether he was allowed to sleep with her, so he preferred to assume he could. She was sprawled on the bed, naked. Almost naked. Above the hem of the sheet, he could see the beige tone of her panties. Her jeans and T-shirt lay in a pile beside the bed. His chest swelled with tenderness.

Stripping down to his boxers, he climbed in behind her. Her hair fanned across her pillow, reflecting the dim light like a still lake at midnight. Her even breathing was too quiet to hear—and yet he felt each soft exhale in his soul. Pale lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she dreamt. She was, in all ways, the epitome of peace.

When he’d first met her, he’d been sure he never deserved contentedness. He was too broken, too shameful, too horrified by what had been done to him and what he’d done in return. On the day before they’d been rescued, Joe had stopped responding to external stimuli completely. Blake had kept his hand on Joe’s wrist, feeling the weak pulse and waiting for them both to die.

When the SEAL team had shown up, mayhem had ensued. A saner man would have laid low until they had neutralized the threat. But Blake was out of his mind with grief and pain. He’d gotten hold of a gun and shot as many of his captors as he could find, until an American soldier had gently but firmly disarmed him.

How could he come back from that? He couldn’t. He’d never planned to, but the damned doctors were persistent. They’d pounded away with their surgical meat tenderizers until his body was functional again, but it had taken Erin to revive his heart. She’d done more than that, she’d become his heart. Wherever she went, whatever she felt. It was lovely and excruciating.

The delicate base of her neck peeked from her outswept hair. The line of her spine was sinuous as her body twisted in sleep. Shadows pooled at the base of her back where the sheet ruched against her skin. His fingers twitched to trace the soft muscles and gentle lines, but he didn’t want to wake her.

She stirred anyway, moving restlessly. Her face turned toward him, eyes still shut. He tried to soothe her before she came fully awake.

“I’m here. Just sleep.”

As her body turned over, soft breasts pressed against his arm and drew his low groan into the air. His body responded, cock thickening, heart pounding. He felt the same carnal urge to claim, to mate, to please her. But above that sang a new melody, one he recognized as ancient—the desire to care for her. To nourish her, body and soul. That secret wish had imbued his actions at the grocery store, feeding her. And now as he ignored the demands of his body to let her sleep. Small gestures for feelings that ran impossibly, unendingly deep.

She flung her leg over him. Her calf touched his erection, and she stilled, coming awake enough to realize his condition.

“Never mind,” he murmured. “We won’t do anything. Just rest.”

She didn’t, though. With sleepy strokes, she fumbled beneath the sheet until she grasped his cock in her small palm. He made a coarse sound, his whole body stiffening. Her eyes remained closed as her soft, clumsy caresses drove him insane. He wasn’t even sure she was totally awake, even when she slipped her panties off beneath the sheet. He was two seconds away from pushing her away when she slid over him and centered her core above him. His mouth went dry as he stared at her breasts swaying slightly with her motion. Her nipples were dark brown and puckered with arousal, or the cold.

“Erin? Are you sure?”

The sound she made was muffled and indistinct, but it told him what he needed to know. Shh, it said. I know what I’m doing. Let me take what I need. He was, would always be helpless to refuse her. His arms fell to his sides, trembling with the effort not to hold her, touch her, make her move.

By tiny degrees, she slid down over him. The heat of her felt electric, sending shocks of pleasure through his balls and up his spine. He gritted his teeth and resolved not to come. She was exhausted, wrung out emotionally and physically. She needed comfort, not the rough, greedy fuck his body required.

Her eyelids still fluttered softly, lashes brushing her flushed cheeks. She draped her body over him, pressing her breasts against his chest. He allowed his hands to hold her then, to stroke her sides in uneven, soothing gestures—though it was really him being calmed, a backward caress. She rolled her hips, setting up a sleepy rhythm that had him ready to shoot in three subtle strokes. Heat raced down his spine. The need to come felt like pinpricks all over his skin, but no, he wouldn’t. Not while she needed him, not yet.

She nestled her nose under his chin, resting her face against his neck. Despite the torrent of sensation in his cock, he felt her breath against his skin. He rocked his hips up to her, meeting her on every stroke. Better than anyone, he knew about the bone-deep relief that could accompany sexual release. He would give that to her, even if it killed him. Use me, he thought. Take me. Fuck me.

Tags: Skye Warren Beauty Erotic