Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters 2) - Page 62

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More than anything, I crave the way he looks at me. His eyes are full of untethered emotion, his touch gentle and full of reverence. He cares, more than he’ll ever admit, and I love that. I need it.

“I’m gonna blow and I don’t want to do it inside you,” he says, sounding tortured. He holds my hips still, preventing me from moving, and I release a little moan of frustration. “Sshh. Let me make this good for you.”

Anticipation races through my veins when he touches me, his fingers tickling my skin, drawing closer to my pussy. He touches me there, tracing my folds where they rest against his cock, a fleeting tap against my throbbing clit. He’s trying to drive me out of my mind and I’m about to yell at him when he draws his finger up, up, until he’s touching a forbidden spot, circling around and around my little hole.

“Ever had a man take you here?” he asks, his voice deep and dark and rumbling along my nerve endings, making me weak with desire.

I shake my head, unable to speak. I’m holding my breath, biting my lip when he presses, slowly breaching the barrier with just the tip of his finger. A moan escapes me at being filled in both holes and I hang my head, again waiting for the shame or embarrassment to come.

But it doesn’t. All I can focus on is the way he moves in me, the way Caden is making me feel. His finger slips deeper as he starts to move and I give myself over to the pleasure. My head is spinning, my body feels like it’s spiraling out of control, and I whimper when he pulls out of me, replacing his cock with his mouth as he licks and sucks my pussy, fucking my ass with his finger, sending me right over the edge with a scream.

I slump onto the mattress as he moves away from me, trying to catch my breath, gather my thoughts. With much effort on my part, I finally roll over to find him sitting on his knees, his cock sticking straight up, the tip covered with creamy pre-come. He looks as if he’s in pain and I go to him, wrapping my fingers around the base so I can draw him into my mouth.

“Fuck yeah,” he practically growls, his hand pushing away my hair before he slides his fingers into it and tugs so hard, I feel the stinging pain in my scalp. “Harder, baby. I want to come in your mouth.”

I do as he commands, giving him all of me, opening my eyes so I can stare at his face. He’s seemingly transfixed, his eyes flaring with unmistakable lust as I pull his cock from my mouth and lick the head, down his length, mapping every distended vein with my tongue. His entire face flinches, a shuddering sound coming from his lips, and when I draw him back into my mouth he explodes all over my tongue, the salty musk taste of his semen filling my mouth.

Withdrawing from him, I let some of it spill out of my mouth and onto the head of his cock, getting him nice and sloppy, and I swear that brings on another spurt of semen. He’s groaning and shouting and saying the crudest things ever and all I want to do is make this good for him.

So good he’ll never, ever want to leave me.

“You are a filthy, dirty girl,” he says after long, quiet moments of our panting breaths as we both try to calm our racing hearts. He collapses onto the mattress, his head buffered by a pile of pillows. I crawl alongside him, lying on my side so I can press my body close, throwing my leg over both of his.

“You like it,” I whisper as I race my fingers down his stomach, feeling the muscles shiver beneath my touch.

“The question is do you like it. What I did to you.”

I gaze up at him to find him studying me, worry making his brow furrow, that wrinkly spot above the bridge of his nose a sure sign he’s apprehensive. “I liked it.”

“Enough to take it … further? Sometime?”

I skim my fingers lower, into his pubic hair, the head of his softening cock brushing against me. “Yes,” I whisper as I turn my face into his shoulder. I’m a little embarrassed, but not enough that I don’t want to talk about this. “As long as you’re gentle. You’re … kinda big.”

He laughs a little as he slips his arm around my shoulders. “Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head. “Not really. It stung a little.”

“I’ll be careful. I’ll always be careful with you. You know this, right, Ro?”

I don’t know. Do I?

“Caden?”

“Yeah?”

I clear my throat, scared over how I’m about to change the subject big-time. “You mentioned your father earlier.”

He tenses up; I can feel his muscles go completely still. “Yeah?” he says again.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He’s quiet for a moment before he says, almost reluctantly, “Go ahead.”

“How … how did he die?” I trace patterns on Caden’s skin, running my finger through the little patch of hair in the center of his chest. I feel like I have every right to ask him that question. I have a dead parent too. One nobody talks about and I want to share in our past grief together. Not get weepy or anything, but I want … I want reassurance that it’s okay to talk about our parents. It’s fine to speak of the dead, you know? I’m tired of hiding my feelings.

Caden lets out a harsh breath and gives my shoulders a squeeze. “It isn’t pleasant.”

“Death never is,” I reassure him.

“He killed himself.” He stiffens against me for the tiniest moment but I continue touching him, my heart full of sadness but also … relief. We have something in common, however terrible it may be. “He worked for an investment firm in Manhattan and was a real hotshot. Worked up the ranks quick, made all sorts of money.”


Tags: Monica Murphy The Fowler Sisters Romance
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