Free Inspire by Cora Carmack

looked unreal. So out of place there. Too beautiful for words.” His teeth nip the other side of my jaw before he sucks my earlobe into his mouth. “Then you were so sweet to Gwen. Instead of spending the day telling me about her favorite Disney princess, all she could talk about was you. Kalli. And every time she said your name I wanted to kick myself for not getting your number, for letting you slip through my hands.”
    He moves then to my neck and at the first lave of his tongue, I grip his shoulders. I'm not sure whether I want to beg him to stop teasing me or to keep going. “Then when I saw you tonight, I thought …” He laughs and continues, “I thought I was crazy. I acted crazy, following you when you took off. And then when I lost you, I was certain I'd been hallucinating. That I had wanted to see you again so badly that my mind had gotten the better of me. Tonight I'm going to bury myself in you so deep that I'll have no doubt that every second of this is real.”
    I dig my fingernails into his muscled shoulders and give in to my instinct to beg. “Wilder, please.”
    In reward, he lowers his head and sucks the tip of one breast into his mouth. I gasp and wrap my legs around his hips, using all my strength to pull him down toward me. His length falls heavy against the damp fabric of my underwear, and we both groan. He pumps his hips, sliding against me, and I press up hard.
    “You're trying to make me break my promise.”
    I tangle my hand in his hair until he meets my gaze, then give him an innocent smile. “I have no idea what you mean.”
    “Sure you don't.”
    He shifts back, pulling my legs from around his waist, and spreading them open. He slides down more, raining kisses over my belly and hips and thighs before settling that sinful mouth just above the line of my underwear.
    “I'm going to know this part of you too, sweet. So don't hold back. If you like something, you tell me. Okay?” When I don't answer, he runs the flat of his tongue over the strip of fabric between my legs. I whimper and he asks, “Okay?”
    I breathe a shaky, “Okay.”
    He brings my legs up and together long enough to pull the scrap of fabric over my thighs and off. Then he lays me open again.
    He'd said he was determined, and if I’d had any doubt, I believed him then. He's meticulous and thorough and sinfully skilled with his mouth. My hips rise and fall with his ministrations, and I lose track of the number of times I call his name.
    It doesn't take him long to know me at all. Within minutes, he's zoned in on my most sensitive spots, discovered which movements make my legs shake, and the pressure that makes me tighten my grip in his hair.
    “You taste sweet here, too. So damn sweet.”
    He keeps me on the edge for so long that when I do fall over, it catches me by surprise. It lifts me up and then flattens me, leaving my head dizzy and spinning. The pleasure is so thick that my body feels heavy with it, like I might not ever be able to move again. And he's still going, easing me through it, drawing out my pleasure until the last possible second, until my hearing goes fuzzy, until it goes on for so long it almost hurts. Almost.
    And I can't help but imagine if he'd be this dedicated to getting to know the rest of me. Not just my body. But my thoughts. My desires. My fears.
    As my mind clears and the real world rolls back in, alarm streaks through me like lightning. Suddenly I am unable to keep all my thoughts at bay. Not about what happened tonight, or who I am, or all the reasons I can never see Wilder again after tonight. And the truth scorches me, burns me up, and sends tears pricking at my eyes.
    Because I've never felt anything this perfect. Never been so overwhelmed by the need to touch someone, to hold tight and not let go.
    And knowing that I can't? That I have to let him go … It's devastating.
    It all catches up to me then, the lack of sleep, the exhaustion from all the energy I've expended. And that’s