Inspire (The Muse #1)(56)
Author: Cora Carmack

“I’ll make it good enough.”

Oh fuck.

“Lay back on the bed,” she says.

I hesitate, but when she takes a step farther away from me in response, I comply quickly, scooting back and throwing myself against the pillows. I fold my hands behind my head to keep from reacting instinctively to touch her, but when she crawls up the foot of the bed on her hands and knees, I know that’s not going to be enough. She moves between my splayed thighs, her tits dangling in her bent position. I groan, and she hasn’t even touched me yet. She advances until her knees are a few inches below my groin, and her palms are planted on the mattress on each side of my abdomen. She smiles sexily at me before her gaze dips down, traveling over my body slowly enough to make my muscles tense in anticipation. The first time she touches me is a light graze just above the button on my jeans.

“I should have made you take these off first,” she murmurs.

Sitting back on her knees, she bends over me to start unfastening my pants. Her hair falls around her, brushing lightly over my thighs and stomach, and I hiss at the barely there touch.

“Tease,” I groan under my breath.

She laughs. “I’m not trying to tease you. I have every intention of following through.”

She finishes lowering my zipper and peels back both sides of the fabric. Bending a little more, she presses a kiss against my erection through the stretched material of my boxer briefs.

My hands are out from under my head before I realize it, and I barely reign myself in before I touch her.

“Fuck.”

Instead, I push at my clothes, trying to help her along. She’s still leaning over me when my jeans and underwear get past my hips and down to my thighs. Her hair trails over my dick as she shifts backward to keep tugging, and it’s all I can do to keep from bucking up toward her. In fact, I can’t even help her anymore with my jeans. I have to direct my eyes to the ceiling and away from her, so close to where I want her. I close my eyes and breathe, trying to ignore the jerk and slide of fabric over my legs as she undresses me.

I don’t know if I can do this without touching her. It’s the closest thing to torture I’ve ever felt.

Her breath hits me first just above the base of my cock. Heat and just a hint of moisture. Then her lips graze my shaft, and I can’t stop myself from looking.

I was wrong before.

This is torture.

Her eyes lock onto mine as her lips smooth up toward the tip, pulling away just before she gets there. I fist my hands in the comforter in an attempt to stay still and breathe, “What happened to not teasing?”

I let out a shout when she grips the shaft and pulls it away from my stomach to take the head in her mouth. I slam a fist into the bed when heat engulfs me, followed by hard suction.

I don’t realize that the string of four letter words going through my head is actually escaping my mouth until Kalli laughs around me, the vibrations drawing a ragged moan instead of another curse. She shifts, placing her hands on my hips instead of bracing them on the bed beside me, and pulls back to swirl her tongue around the tip.

There’s something about seeing her lips there, feeling the contrast between cool air and hot mouth … hot enough to burn. Her lips caress the sensitive underside, and my hips instinctively edge upward. But with her hands braced against me, she leans a little more weight into me, pinning my hips to the mattress.

When she takes me back in her mouth, going deep enough that I bump the back of her throat, I lose control. My hands are off the blanket and in her hair in seconds. She keeps me there, my tip against the tightness for another couple seconds, but then she starts to pull away.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I disentangle my fingers, and this time I reach above me, curling my fists around the metal headboard. Instead of removing her mouth completely, Kalli bobs her head again, returning me to that spot that has me squeezing my fists tighter to maintain control. The metal on the headboard isn’t round, so when I squeeze hard enough, the edges pinch at my skin, helping my head stay clear.

That’s how I survive the exquisite torture of not being able to touch the woman I love as she blows my mind. Again and again, her mouth moves over me, and her eyes never leave mine except for the rare moment when her lids fall and she hums softly as if she’s getting as much out of this as I am.

Instead of spitting out cuss words, I babble nonsense and appreciation as she works me. After a few minutes, she seems to think I’ve got control over myself, so she loosens her grip on my hips, sliding her hands down over my sensitive inner thighs before moving back up to circle the base of my erection with one and the cup the heavy sac beneath with the other.

I’m so overwhelmed with pleasure and lust and perfection that I don’t even feel like a complete person. I’ve fallen to pieces over want for her, and my legs and arms and body aren’t connected anymore. They’re vessels of sensation. Nothing more.

But my heart … it’s still slamming against my chest, and I think she might be on the verge of killing me.

“Enough,” I beg. “I want inside you. Please, Kalli. I feel like I’ve waited a fucking lifetime to be there.”

“Not yet,” she whispers before starting again, her movements faster this time, a little rougher, too. I tense, straining hard enough that the bed creaks from my pulling on the headboard.

“Now,” I growl.

She laughs again in response, and the unexpected sensation jerks me right to the edge. I hold my breath and tear my eyes away from her, scared just the sight of her will make me lose it.

“Kalli, stop. I’m going to—”

She takes me deeper than she ever has before. So damn hot and tight and fuck.

I reach down to pull her off me, but it’s too late. Her questing fingers hit a sensitive spot, and that combined with the wet clasp of her mouth around me are too much. My orgasm slams into me, my hips lifting off the bed involuntarily. She sticks with me, continuing to touch and suck and lick as my cock jerks and I come in her mouth.

I sink my fingers into her hair again, not caring about the consequences this time. All I know as I lay there groaning and dying beneath her is that I need to see her face. I push strands back out of the way, smoothing my fingers over her cheeks and forehead, whispering that I love her again and again until she slowly slides her mouth off of me.

Struggling to catch my breath, I say, “You didn’t have to. I tried to tell you.”

“It was your turn.”

I shake my head. “That in the car didn’t count. You did that on your own.”