Deep Under

Chapter Sixteen

Myla

It's the first day in fourteen months that I wake without a monster either in my bed or in my head. I blink awake to the first dawn of a new, better day, immediately aware of the heavy weight at my back, an arm draped over my waist, warmth filling me. Kyle. I smile with the memories of him carrying me to his room again last night, and of how I'd ended up in my current state of absolute nakedness.

He'd set me down in front of the bed, dragging the shirt off of me, his shirt, his hands all over my body, his big, hard body pressing me into the mattress. His shirt had come off next, followed by his sweatpants. There had been kissing, licking, touching. But when he'd told me to turn over, I'd refused. I close my eyes now, reliving it.

"No," I said. "Not this time. This time I get to do the touching. This time I get to kiss you." My hand flattens on his chest. "Lay on your back."

"No," he says. "You—"

I lean up and silence him with a press of my lips to his, my hand on his cheek, lingering there several beats before I pull back and let him see the truth of my words in my eyes. "I have not touched anyone because I wanted to touch them in a very long time. And I want to touch you."

His gaze darkens, his fingers flexing into my backside that he's now cupping. "Myla," he whispers, my name a hot rasp of pure heat and passion, and when his mouth closes over mine, his tongue stroking deeply, I taste the lust in him, and it is the most amazing feeling to have that arouse me, not repel me. With him, I am human again. I am a woman again. I am me again.

He rolls to his back, taking me with him and I do not hesitate to meld my naked breasts to his chest, nor does he hesitate to cup my breast, to pinch my nipple. I kiss his neck, his shoulders, his lips. I kiss my way down to that deliciously ripped stomach of his, loving the way his hand goes to my head, but doesn't push, tangle or hurt. It's about arousal, about need, not sharing, not taking. And when I slide lower and take his cock in my hand and lick that salty proof of his arousal at the tip, the way his body stiffens, the way he makes this low, almost growl, has me wet and achy in ways I have not ached in oh so long, if ever.

"Good morning."

Kyle's deep, gravelly voice at my ear snaps me back to the present, his hand flattening on my belly. "Morning," I whisper, and he shifts my hips, his obviously hard cock settling in the crux below my backside, where I am already wet with my memories.

His hands slide lower, fingers resting just above my clit without moving. "Do you—"

"Yes please," I say, sounding breathless, feeling breathless, his fingers sliding lower, stroking my sex, and the instant he feels how ready I am, he makes another of those low, hot sounds he makes.

He pulls my legs toward my belly, arching around me, dragging his shaft up and down my sex, back and forth until he is pressing inside me, so damn hard it almost hurts, but oh so good. And once he's there, his hand cups my breast, his lips find my ear. "You make waking up really damn hot, sweetheart."

I don't get to respond. I don't know how I would if I could. Because he's moving, stroking me with his cock in these long, slow, seductive moves, that steal away words and thoughts. There is just the two of us, our bodies joined, our breathing filling the air. And his hand travels my body, between my legs, teasing my clit, driving me wild. The hot burn in my belly gets hotter, my sex tighter, and I arch backwards into him, with the climb to that sweet spot that is on me in an instant. But what makes it even sweeter, is his low groan and the way we shudder and shake together. The way our bodies ease together. The way he slowly inches my legs downward so that they align with his, but doesn't pull away.