Award winner 107 - Ever After Awaits

I sit before her on my knees like she’s my own personal altar, and her name is the only prayer I’ve ever wanted to memorize and recite daily.

Her thighs tremble as I guide them further apart, slow and reverent–like, like I’m unwrapping something precious — something holy – unable to break eye contact with her delectable pussy as it opens up to me. She’s already slick, warm, and aching for

more.

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I slowly drag my hands up the insides of her thighs, my fingertips brushing soft skin that jumps under my touch because she’s so sensitive. She lets out a breathy whimper when I lean in, run the tip of my nose up her slit, and inhale deep when I reach her clit.

She smells like heat and salt and something sweeter beneath it. Something that reminds me of sex and surrender wrapped in one unbearable addiction. Like the aftermath of sin kissed by sugar. Wet. Wild. Fucking perfect. And all fucking mine.

“Christ, Sunshine,” I murmur, my voice low and thick, “You smell like a fucking dream I haven’t earned yetb./bb” /b

Then, I press my mouth to her–once, just above the crease where her thigh meets her hip–twice, closer now, my lips teasing her skin like I’ve got all the time in the world.

Her fingers clutch at the couch cushions beside her, her muscles going tight like she’s trying to hold still.

She can’t. She won’t. Not if I have anything to say about it.

My thumb grazes her center in a featherlight touch, and she gasps–sharp and helpless- as her hips jerk up and towards my touch like her body’s already forgotten what restraint feels like.

I groan at the sight of her like this–spread open, glistening, wrecked without even being touched properly yet.

“You’re already soaked for me,” I breathe against her as I drag my mouth across the

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Chapter 107: Cade POV

inside of her thigh. “Fuck, sweetheart. Did you get this wet just for me?”

When I finally let my fingers slide through her folds–slowly and with purpose–she cries out, her head tipping back, and her back arching like she’s offering herself to me without pretense or hesitation.

And God, she’s idripping/i.

My cock throbs, hard and heavy beneath my jeans, incessantly pushing at the zipper, but I don’t move to touch myself. Not yet. This is all about her. This is mine to give, not

take.

I circle her clit with the pad of my thumb, adding just enough pressure to make her writhe beneath my touch. “You feel that?” I murmur, dragging my thumb through her slick again, gathering up more of her wetness. “That’s mine now. This, you–every sound

you make it all fucking belongs to me.”

–

Then, as I watch her in awe, I turn my hand and press my middle finger inside her, slow

and steady, inch by glorious inch.

She moans–deep and broken–and clutches the arm of the couch like it’s the only thing

tethering her to the earth in this moment.

“More,” she gasps in a voice that borders on begging, already ruined.

A dark, wicked smile pulls at my mouth as I say, “You want more? Then take it, baby.” And with that, I slide in a second finger, stretching her open.

“Goddamn,” I grit out. “You’re so fucking tight. Like you were made to take me.”

She clenches around me at my words, and I nearly lose it right then and there, I curl my fingers deep and slow, dragging them against that spot inside her that makes her hips stutter and her voice crack on my name.

“I want to watch youe undone just for me,” I whisper as my lips brush over the top of her thigh. “Nobody else. Just for me.”

I lift her right leg and ce her foot on the couch cushion a little off to her side,

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effectively opening her up to my fingers and my gaze even more. Then I fuck her with my fingers–slow and devastating–until her entire body is shaking, and her heel is digging into the cushion next to my shoulder, as her breaths turn to broken little sobs of pleasure.

“Come for me, Sunshine,” I murmur darkly, as I watch my fingers disappear inside her, wishing for the day it gets to be my cock. “Come on my fingers, and let me see how beautiful you are when you fall apart for me.”

My words haven’t evenpletely fallen from my lips before she shatters with a gasp, her spine bowing, and her mouth falling open as shees, ihard/ii, /isoaking my hand, and writhing under me, her body no longer belonging to her but only me.

And I watch it iall/i.

Her chest rising and falling rapidly, hershes fluttering like butterfly wings, her lips parted in bliss, and her thighs mping and trembling around my wrist like she never wants me to stop.

I ease my fingers out slowly, not wanting to break the spell she’s under too quickly.

As she slumps back against the couch–like gravity remembered her name–ruined and radiant like the sun rose just for her, I kneel for a second longer, letting this image of her burn into my psyche. Then I look up, drag my gaze to hers, and without breaking eye contact, lift the fingers that were buried inside her mere seconds ago and slip them into my mouth.

Her taste hits me like a sucker punch to the chest. It’s warm, slick, and ifucking /iidivine/i.

It’s sweet with a molten edge of salt and heat–like sugar melted over sin. Like the aftermath of something holy and unrepentant. Like everything I’ve ever wanted and never thought I’d get to keep for myself.

I suck slowly and deliberately, letting her watch me savor her essence and letting her ifeel /iwhat she does to me.

“You taste like heaven after a fight,” I rasp, my voice thick and low. “Sweet. Dirty. And fucking worth bleeding for.”

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She shivers then–her shoulders pulling tight, her lips parting just slightly–and I watch it ripple through her like I’ve touched something deeper than her skin.

And it wrecks me all over again.

I rise slowly, settle beside her, and pull her wrecked, limp body into my arms. She’s flushed, humming under my skin, and still shivering through the aftershocks of her

orgasm.

She curls into me instinctively like I’m her safe space. Like I’m her home.

Her thighs drape over mine, still bare and warm, so I drape the nket from the back of the couch over her lower half, and then hold her tighter to me.

I kiss her temple softly, but not pulling my lips away too quickly. “Next time,” I whisper against her skin, my voice rough from the restraint still wing in my throat. “I won’t stop there.”

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to. Her fingers curl into my shirt like she

knows I meant it.

—

And I lie there the scent of her still on my skin, her taste still haunting my tongue- already desperate for the next time I get to wreck her all over again.