Last Breath (Hitman #2)(48)
Author: Jessica Clare

I would rend anyone limb from limb who tried to come between Regan and me. From now on, the only one who will hear her scream when she comes is me. The only man who will get to taste the nectar between her legs is me. The only cock that will ever pleasure her, from this moment until I never draw another breath, is mine.

I eat at her, lapping at her arousal and listening to the sounds of her pleasure as she comes and comes. My arms feel heavy with the desire to touch her and my dick is pulsing with need, but the promise I made to her is just as effective as bonds. I’d never hurt her, never break my promise to her. Not in this lifetime or the next.

When the last of her orgasm leaves her weak, she collapses against the wall and headboard and then slowly slides down until she’s prostrate on top of me. “Can I hold you?” I whisper against her ear.

“Please,” she says. And my arms band around her so tightly she squeaks.

“Sorry.” I force myself to loosen my hold, but I don’t let go.

Eighteen

Regan

DANIEL ’S HAND STROKES UP AND down my back in slow, soothing motions. I’m lying on top of him, my legs spread over his hips, my breasts mashed to his chest, and he’s quietly stroking my back and ignoring the raging hard-on I feel pressed against my pussy. We’re both ignoring it. I suppose sooner or later, it needs to be addressed. Just . . . not right now. I’m feeling too good to think about anything but what we did.

His fingers dance along my spine in a light touch. “Did I break you?” he asks, and I hear a teasing note in his voice.

I laugh a little, but the truth is, I’m feeling a little stunned. That’s the first time I’ve ever been on the receiving end of oral, and it was every bit as good as it had been made out to be. I’d sat on Daniel’s face, and he’d acted like I was giving him a present. I think of Mike and how I’d blown him countless times and how he’d never reciprocated. “I’m not a big fan of pussy,” he’d tell me and complain about the smell, as if I was something diseased instead of his girlfriend. The few times I’d begged him to do more, he’d told me that guys who said they liked eating pussy were liars and made tuna jokes.

I sit up, a frown on my face as I stare down at Daniel.

“What?” he asks.

“Did you enjoy that?”

His eyes narrow and now he’s frowning, like he’s not entirely sure he understands the question. “Did I enjoy eating your pussy? Wasn’t it obvious?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I could eat that pussy for hours and never get tired of the way you taste,” Daniel tells me, and his fingers skim up my spine again. “Love your honey on my tongue and the way you shiver when I touch your clit. So, yeah, I fucking loved it.”

I tremble a little at the intensity of his gaze. “Sorry. I guess that was a silly question.”

“Not silly,” he says to me.

“Mike didn’t . . . he . . .”

“Can we not talk about Mike when you’re spread on top of me?” His hand stops moving along my spine, and the closed look on his face makes me realize I’ve hurt his feelings.

I need to make this better. So I lay back down on him and curl up against his hard chest, my cheek pressed against his heart. “I’m sorry. Mike’s my only real experience . . . before. And I’m starting to realize now that it wasn’t very good.”

He pats my back. “S’okay.”

“You ever have bad sex?” I ask him. My head feels deliciously comfy on his chest, and his nipple is a mere inch or two away from my face. I lift my fingers and begin to trace circles around it. Daniel’s got a dusting of chest hair all across his pectorals, but I like it. It feels warm and a little fuzzy against my cheek.

“Shit yeah. Who hasn’t?” His fingers move along my spine again, and after a moment he says, “I once banged a girl—a base bunny—who called me my sergeant’s name the entire time. We were both too drunk to care but, I admit, it kinda shriveled my dick when I sobered up. Never touched that ass again.”

“Because your feelings were hurt?” Poor Daniel.

“No, because Sarge was fucking disgusting. Man was seventy if he was a day, bow-legged, dentures, and the worst damn breath. Kinda insulted that she mistook us.”

I giggle at that, because I picture a girl mistaking this breathtakingly gorgeous man for that and it seems absurd. “Maybe she was really, really drunk.”

“Shit, I sure hope so. He had these bizarre caterpillar eyebrows that looked like they were ready to crawl off his face.”

I’m laughing now, all tension gone. He sounds so very disgruntled.

He chuckles underneath me, clearly pleased by my response. “Damn, Regan, but you have the prettiest laugh. I think I need to hear that more often.” And his fingers caress my cheek.

Just like that, my laughter dries up and I’m feeling relaxed and good . . . and even more blatantly aware of Daniel’s cock pressing against me. He’s ignoring it, but it’s obvious he wants me. And suddenly, I want him, too. I want to see if I can have sex with this man without freaking out. Oral sex with him had been amazing, but now I’m greedy and I want more. How good would flat-on-your-back, sweaty, pounding sex be? My wavering courage tells me that if I ride Daniel, it’ll be safer to get up, easier to run away.

But . . . I also wonder what it’d be like if Daniel was in charge. Would I lose my cool the moment he covers me? Or would I be too busy having the best orgasms of my life to even care?

Do I want to try? My fingers slide away from his nipple and move up to his mouth, and I trace his lips with my fingertips.

He inhales sharply, and his tongue reaches out to flick against my fingers. A low groan escapes him. “I can still taste you on your fingers.”

“Do you like it?” I ask softly.

“Makes my dick harder than a rock.”

I give my hips a little shift, rocking them against his erection. “I can tell.” My voice is becoming breathless with excitement. “Do you have condoms?”

“Yep.” No pretty words, no questioning if I’m sure or not. Just a solid affirmation. It’s handled. For some reason, that makes me smile. Everything’s always handled with Daniel. When I’m with him, it’s harder to spin out of control. He’s got me. I like that.

So I sit up a little and shift forward until my lips can reach his. I kiss him, because I like kissing this man. My mouth plays over his, the kiss light, gentle, and totally controlled by me. His lips brush over mine, his tongue flicking against my own, and it feels incredibly good. So good that I want to try and go a little further.