TWISTED FATE (Twisted Path Book 1)

Chapter 33

Shane

This isn't just about need. It's about her. About giving her something no one else ever has—showing her, with every touch, every kiss, just how much she means to me.

I've never worshiped anything before. But with my face between Becca's thighs, drinking in the sight of her—laid bare, open, trusting—I realize there's no other word for what this is. For what she is. A gift. One that, if she'll let me, I'll spend the rest of my life proving I deserve.

My hands skim her thighs, sliding down to her hips, savoring the way she shivers beneath me. Every instinct inside me screams to claim her, to hurry up and make her mine, but I hold back. I'm determined to take my time. I won't give in until she's ready. Not until I've given her so much pleasure, she's left shaking and utterly lost in me.

She gasps when I kiss the delicate skin above her slit, her hips jerking in search of more. My control is fraying, but I hold steady, spreading her open, exposing the firm, swollen bundle of flesh that's begging to be touched.

"Shane," she breathes, her voice barely more than a whimper.

"I've got you, pretty girl," I murmur, letting my lips brush a light kiss over her clit just before I give her what she needs.

My tongue flicks out, teasing, testing, and fuck, she tastes so sweet I groan against her. I don't rush, though. I take my time, mapping her with slow, deliberate strokes, learning what makes her breath hitch, her body tremble, her fingers clutch the sheets.

She's lost in the sensation, in the pleasure, in my careful ministrations. With a sense of awe, I watch her hips move in a sensual dance, chasing, seeking as her breath catches at every swipe of my tongue. So, I do it again. Over and over. Her soft gasps turn to whimpers, then moans as I learn what she likes. She's falling apart for me and it's the most amazing thing I've ever seen.

Her thighs try to close around me, but I press them wider, keeping her open for me, keeping her right where I want her. The breathy sounds spilling from her lips fuel the fire raging inside me, but I focus on her. On the way her body arches when I wrap my lips around her clit, sucking gently at first, then more firmly as she cries out, her voice trembling with need.

Her fingers dive into my hair, boldly tugging, her body writhing beneath me, chasing more friction, more pleasure. And fuck... the way she's moving to take what she needs, I could seriously come just from this.

"Please," she gasps, her voice so desperate it shoots sparks of pleasure up my spine. I press my tongue against her and continue stroking, flicking, sucking, building her higher and higher until she's right there—right on the edge, trembling, panting, whimpering.

"Let go for me, pretty girl," I rasp against her, slipping a finger inside her. I groan when I feel how tight she is—how fucking soaked. Her walls clench around me as I add another finger, stretching her, preparing her.

Suddenly, she shatters.

Her body tenses, then releases, her back arching off the bed as she cries out my name, in pleasure-filled sobs that make me feel like a goddamn king. I don't stop. I don't let up. I work her through it, savoring every tremor, every aftershock, every clench of her pussy around my fingers until she's boneless beneath me.

And that's when I lose it.

The last of my restraint snaps, and suddenly, I'm crawling over her, capturing her mouth in a kiss that's nothing short of desperate. She tastes herself on my tongue, and the sound she makes—soft, dazed, utterly wrecked—sends another jolt of need through me. I don't think. I don't hesitate. I grind against her, my cock so painfully hard it's almost unbearable, seeking relief, seeking her.