Home > Books > Addicted After All (Addicted #5)(141)

Addicted After All (Addicted #5)(141)

Author:Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie

“It’s me, love,” he says, sauntering to the dresser. He finishes off his water and sets the glass down. “You don’t have to be embarrassed to say what you mean.”

He nears the bed and climbs on top, the mattress rocking with his weight. His hands travel up my hips, and he easily flips me onto my back again. His eyes dance across my flushed face.

“So say what you mean,” Lo says in a soft voice, his warm breath tickling my flesh as his mouth descends towards my chest. He sucks gently on my nipple, teasing.

“Hmm…” My eyes flutter closed at the new sensation. I clutch the sheet underneath me. “Do you…want me to give you a hand job or a…a…” think, Lily! “…a blow job?” I open one eye and then both, smiling. Nailed it.

His tongue flicks the sensitive bud before he says, “No. But that’s adorable of you to ask.”

“Now your turn.” I nudge his leg with my foot.

His lips lift in amusement. “Lily Calloway, would you like me to give you a hand job?” Yes. His palm brushes over the tender spot between my thighs. A gasp catches in my throat. “Or head?” Double yes. He kisses a trail from my breast to my belly button and down, down, down.

I almost moan as his mouth reaches the best spot ever. But he stops just before he relieves any ache. He raises his head once more, awaiting my answer. I’d love to say yes to both, but I would love both of us to get off even more.

“Or,” I say with a shallow breath. “Option C.” I go to turn over again, but he grips my hipbones firmly, keeping me flat on my back. That didn’t work.

“Option D,” he combats. That sounds good. All I hear is Option Dick. My mind, I tell you. No one should be allowed to enter. I absorb each little movement he makes. Still kneeling, he snatches a pillow and stuffs it underneath my bottom.

He begins to peel off the sheets and comforter, exposing my naked body. My heart drums with each passing second. I remember the days where I’d jump him right off the bat. Where I couldn’t control myself. But I take pleasure in this moment, in his self-assuredness and ability to please me so entirely.

I can lie here and watch and wait. It builds me to a better place.

His hand skims the length of my leg before he lifts both of them higher. Then he bends my knees, tucking my leg underneath his arm, grasping the other. My heart misses a beat as his pelvis fits perfectly against my entrance.

Missionary. Anal sex. Together, this has become way more intimate.

Slowly, he fills me, every inch of his hardness ignites fireworks inside my body. The most electric, sweltering sensations that I want to bask under night and day. When I’ve taken all of him, he leans forward and kisses me deeply.

I struggle to reciprocate, heady and dazed. “Lo,” I whimper against his lips.

“Relax, love,” he coaxes. And then he thrusts. Deep and rhythmic. I grip his hard biceps and focus on keeping my legs raised so he can go further. I inhale sporadically, short breaths that sound like gasps. One minute in, and I stop exhaling, my head dizzying with this bliss.

Lo pauses mid-thrust. “Breathe.”

I buck against him, trying to complete his cock’s travel. Lo drops one of my legs and grips my hip instead, his fingers digging into my flesh. “Breathe.”

Okay. Okay. I take a deep breath, my head less light than before and my chest not as constricted. Satisfied, he continues his course. His gaze carries this hypnotic intensity that pulls me under, amber swirls filled with lust and passion and want.

Cravings that mirror mine.

My nerves sing in euphoria, and then his hand finds my wetness, his fingers filling me even more. I moan into this bed, not able to keep eye contact anymore. The world is spinning. His movements in sync. His fingers. His cock. They pound, pound, pound. His breathing as ragged as mine. His mouth that falls open in pleasure.

He is ice. So cold it burns.

My moans escalate, uncontrollable.

And then the worst sound in the entire world breaches our bedroom.

Crying.

Babies crying.

My heart catapults. “Stopstopstop,” I slur together. My eyes flit to the baby monitor, the light blinking as the noises emit from the speakers. I frantically push him off, even though he’s already backing away.

In a panic, I jump off the bed and throw on one of Lo’s baggy crew-neck shirts. The black fabric falls just above my knees.

“Lil, calm down. He’s fine. He can cry for a bit and be okay,” Lo consoles.

No. I made a promise to never choose sex over him. This is my first real test. And I’m going to pass. “I’m going to check on him,” I say, tying my damp hair into a messy bun. “You can finish yourself off in the bathroom.”