The Witness (Miami Private Security #4)

34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Michael

S oft early morning light filtered through Sabrina’s bedroom window. I tugged the sheet back to see the slope of her shoulder and the curve of her hip. With the tip of my finger, I traced the bow of her spine, then curved my palm around the bend in her waist. She shifted back, the roundness of her ass tucking perfectly against my growing morning erection. Her body moved like hot wax flowing into the shape of mine.

Best Christmas morning in ages.

Last night, we barely made it inside before we ripped each other’s clothes off. She was a little tipsy, and I was in no mood to slow down her attack. I’d madly, desperately wanted to be inside her all night, all week. The phone calls and text messages we’d exchanged were death by a thousand cuts—torture.

She’d pushed me down on the couch and knelt between my legs, taking me in her mouth. I’d probably ripped holes in the sofa cushions I’d gripped onto in an effort to control myself. My Siren had sucked and stroked me to my breaking point. I had been slicked with sweat and every muscle had been shaking when I gave in and pulled her off her knees. What followed had been a straight up hard, fun fuck. We’d both needed the release.

But this morning, we had time. A luxury I wouldn’t squander.

I slid closer. Naked spooning was how every morning should start.

I reached between her thighs and cupped her core, parting the folds with my index finger. Hot. Slick. And smoother than silk. The tender nub of her clit throbbed under my languid touch.

She came awake slowly. Her breathing changed, faster and shallower. With a roll of her hips and a breathy moan, she unfurled for me, pleasure chasing away sleep. I nuzzled her neck, teasing the sensitive skin with the roughness of my scruffy jawline.

I worked my fingers faster; her hips mimicked my pace, thrusting into my hand. Her ragged breathing filled the room. I focused on her movements and sounds to gauge what she liked best. The thought of bringing her pleasure had my cock pulsing against her backside.

Her moans were soft with sleep but still urgent with need, a juxtaposition of two deep-seated desires. I would be sure that want triumphed. I rolled the firm bud of her sex between two fingers.

She gasped my name on a shudder. Her body pulled taut as the first shimmering wave of release washed over her. She arched her spine, putting a few scant inches between us. Her hand snaked back and grasped my cock.

“Siren.” It was a plea she didn’t heed. I worked my fingers on her clit harder.

As she crested another wave, her grip became painfully tight. My length throbbed against the delicious constraint.

Her pleasure was mine. I wanted all of it. Every gasp and tremor. The Christmas gift of my dreams.

“Come, keep coming,” I whispered into her ear. She nodded her head into the pillow and rode my hand with renewed energy. Her hold on my length didn’t loosen, and I thrust into her fist, my dick so hard it could have been made of steel.

She was nearly sobbing with pleasure. It wasn’t enough. I had to have more. Once more, I guided her through another, stronger wave of ecstasy.

Her grip loosened on my cock, and I rolled above her. I fit my hips between her trembling thighs.

She’d done this to me. I was a rational man. Always a considerate lover, but after a week apart from her, I was insatiable. It had never been like this with a woman. I made her come until actual tears trickled down her cheeks. It was glorious. I was insane.

I bent my head and kissed away the glistening drop of salt. It tasted like bliss.

“Can you take more?” The question was moot. My cock was already slipping slowly into her heat.

Her knees fell open and her arms wrapped around me. “Always more of you. Always.”

I felt at once so powerful and so weak. Overwhelmed by her. I didn’t deserve any part of her. Not her body. Not her time. Not her consideration. But I had all those things. And I’d be damned if I let go of them without a fight.

“Take it.” My words weren’t a demand. They were a gently whispered prayer.

I looked into her eyes, and we moved together. Our hips rolled in a matching rhythm. The pace was as slow as a waltz. I glided in and out of her in regular deep thrusts that fed my hunger. This was possession. I took, but so did she. We were claiming each other.

We’d had sex, plenty of it. But this was different. It had a soul-searching depth that had never been part of our prior couplings. It should have scared the shit out of me. Yet, it didn’t. This relationship was so much more than those in my past.

She uncurled one arm from around my shoulders and found my hand, twining our fingers together. Another connection.

I held her gaze, wishing I knew how to explain what I felt. Tell her I’d do better by her. Be a supporter, not a hero. Give her the part of myself I held back from others. But I didn’t have the words.

I closed my eyes and buried my face in the bend of her neck, the primal need of my body taking over. I hitched a hand under her hip, pulling her up into my deep hard thrusts. She gasped my name and asked for more. That I could give.

Passion built to a tremendous crescendo that when it reached its peak took us both to new heights before crashing us down into a limp, exhausted tangle.

I used my remaining strength to roll to her side so I didn’t crush her. Leaning on an elbow, I pulled a few strands of sweat-tangled hair from her face. I cupped her cheek and traced the fine bones of her face with my thumb. I lingered over the spiderweb of laugh lines at the corner of her eye.

She licked her dry lips before breathing out the question. “What was that?”

“A Christmas present.” I dipped my head and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

She shook her head. “That was more than a present.”

“I know.” I pressed my forehead to hers so I wouldn’t have to look into her eyes. Her intense gaze would see everything. The mess of ideas and emotions that she’d caused.

The silence stretched long and heavy.

“I don’t deserve a woman like you.”