“Tell me.”
Balz tossed the other shoe over his other shoulder. “You’re thinking you wanted me to go down on you all afternoon, every second we were apart.”
As she gasped, he went to work on her pants, popping the button and then lowering the zipper. “Am I wrong?”
“Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it when you—”
“Guess what?” He stripped off her pants—and took her panties with them.
“What?” she said breathlessly.
“I can also see into the future.” Balz lowered his chin and stared out from under his brows at her. “You’re about to have seven orgasms, right under my tongue.”
* * *
Erika went from hassled to desperately, sexually starved in the fifteen-foot distance between when Balthazar started kissing her on the stairs and when he put her into the chair. Or was she on the sofa?
Who the hell cared. She wasn’t on the floor, that was all she knew for sure.
And she was also half undressed.
And fully aroused.
“I think you’re right,” she moaned as he grabbed the backs of her knees and yanked her forward to him.
He hissed through his front teeth as he spread her legs by running his hands up the insides of her thighs. And then he lowered his head, curling that huge back of his forward. She felt the first brush of his lips on her knee. After that, they were where his palms had been.
Taking his time, he nipped and licked his way to her core.
She expected him to tease her.
Nope.
As she speared her fingers through his hair, in anticipation of having to pull his face right into her, he went for it himself.
She got a full-on seal of his lips, and the sucking sent her right over the edge.
Calling out his name, Erika threw her head back and yanked at his hair. Not that he seemed to notice or care. He just made love to her with his mouth, his nose, his face, and the harder she orgasmed, the more he made her come.
Which didn’t make any sense.
But it just proved that he was correct. He could see into the future.
She loved it so much that she was starting to come again already.
On his side, Balthazar was raw and unhinged, and he just kept at it, urging her to release more and more. And God, the sight of him between her legs, at her core, staring up at her as if he were drinking in her pleasure with his eyes? It was almost too much to bear.
It went on for what felt like hours. And when he finally lifted himself up from her, she was boneless and lying wide open, her sex throbbing and hypersensitive. But she wanted him to come, too.
Before she could tell him to take those sweatpants down, he yanked off the sweatshirt and then pulled the bottoms off, and she was treated to a spectacular show of muscle—that only got even better as he propped himself up with one hand and palmed his erection with the other.
“I want to fuck you,” he growled as he started to pump himself. “I want to fuck you so hard…”
He ejaculated all over her, the hot jets streaming down the folds of her sex, coating the insides of her thighs, hitting her lower belly. And then, when he should have been more than sated, he plunged into her core and pumped into her.
As he rode her hard, and she hung on to his sweat-slicked shoulders, she had a thought that this was not a man she was with.
This was another thing entirely—and what was happening between them was something so much more than just sex.
She felt as though he was staking some kind of claim to her.
And damn it, she wanted everyone to know she was his.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
After the fall of night, Rahvyn returned unto Luchas House. Or perhaps, more properly, “was returned.” As if she were a satchel mislaid.
The van that took her back was driven by one of the social workers, and there was another male with her, one who had had a foot broken whilst playing a game called “basketball” and had had to have the bone set within a case. During the travel, Rahvyn said not much a’tall. The male and the social worker, on the other hand, chatted about all manner of trivialities, a relief really.
When there seemed not much relief to be found anywhere.
Upon arrival at the house, Rahvyn made her excuses and said that she required air. What she had intended was a return to the destination that had been pulling at her ever since that dream of the book. What she was granted was a reprieve of some short amount of time, after which the social worker was going to “come check on her.”
An anger, deep and sour, curled in Rahvyn’s gut at the kind shepherding—and she was well aware of where that emotion led. Therefore, she nodded and walked away from the house, into the barren field. Out under a cloudy sky that offered no moon and no stars for illumination, she was struck both by the calling that refused to relent and a conviction that she would not hurt the compassionate female.