Chapter 133

She wanted to laugh at that, because it seemed like the right thing to do. To make this less intense. Less overwhelming. But he angled a look up at her when he said it, green and hot, and she was terribly afraid she might shatter.

And she didn’t know if she meant she would come—or come apart. Or both.

There was a noise in her ears, some kind of ringing. And maybe that was her breath, heaving in and out of her. Tyler unbuttoned her jeans, then worked her zipper down. And she wanted to tell him not to bother. That she’d never cared that much about this thing that all women were supposed to find so delightful.

That in her experience, it was always a bit messy and embarrassing. The boyfriends she’d had were always so proud of themselves, so bound and determined to prove something, that she’d felt nothing but enormous pressure to scream and carry on and make out as if she was transported. When really, a person’s head was between her legs while an endless spiral of anxiety traipsed about in her head—

“Hey. Lexi.”

Tyler's voice snapped her out of the cycle, and she found his gaze. There was something in the way he was looking at her, then. Some kind of charged patience. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking. His hands were busy, even as that gaze of his was still. He tugged her jeans down over her hips, and she would have protested, maybe. But his hands were so big and they skimmed over her legs easily, and it was easier somehow to let him tug one leg free.

And besides, she liked it when he touched her.

His gaze caught hers, almost stern now. “This is for me.”

“What?”

“This is for me,” he told her, and there was that patient thing there in all that green, and a light she didn’t quite understand. “This is what I need. All right?”

She nodded, because she couldn’t speak.

“Good.” His mouth seemed stern, then, too—a word she never would have used to describe Tyler. Her Tyler, so funny and happy and bright… But she liked this side of him. Something about that hard line of profoundly male lips and his finely cut jaw made her shudder inside, and her pussy feel wet and swollen. “I want you to think about that, please.”

“Think about what? What you want?”

“I told you I was hungry.”

He smoothed his hands up to her hips again, and pulled one leg wide as he went, making space for himself. He kept going up her thigh, until he reached the edge of the panties she wore.

And when he flicked his gaze to hers again, she understood that both of them were feeling that same wild heat. She was lit up with it. With him. His palms were against her skin, and as he knelt there, she could feel his breath against the lace that covered her pussy.

“I’ll buy you more,” he growled, and she had no idea what he meant.

Until he tore her panties off her. And she couldn’t help but gasp at that. She even rocked forward with the jolt of it, up on her toes.

Tyler's hands moved around to grip her ass. As if he owned it. And her. Then he pulled her forward, straight on to his mouth. He didn’t seem to care what she did with herself. Where she put her hands or how she was propped up against the secretary. He dipped his shoulder so that one of her legs fell over his back, and his hands gripped her, holding her right where he wanted her.

And he ate at her as if she was a ripe fruit, and he didn’t give a shit if she ran all over his face. She tried to brace herself against the secretary behind her, but he was too intense. His tongue, his teeth, that jaw. It was like he was truly feasting on her. Eating his fill, and so wholly focused on the task, so deeply unconcerned with her reaction, that she felt herself…unravel. Or let go, at last.

She dug her hands in his thick, dark hair, and stopped trying to anticipate which way he would rock his head, or angle that chin.

And all the while, he licked into her. He scraped at her gently, and then not so gently, too. And it was his intensity that rocked her. His total focus, and his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass, kneading gently from time to time to increase the sensation.

Lexi didn’t have to do a thing. Tyler wasn’t checking to see what her reaction was. He’d told her he wanted this, and he was taking it, and she believed that he truly didn’t care about anything but pleasing himself. He was hungry, she was his appetizer— And that was what threw her over the edge.

She’d had orgasms before. Some quite delightful ones, she would have said. By her own hand, with a partner—they’d been sweet little finishes, like a cherry on top. But this was nothing like that.

This was a gut punch. This was a seismic event.

She felt everything in her seize, and this had nothing to do with cherries, and she was shaking everywhere, inside and out, and a noise was coming out of her throat that scraped. And she heard a deep, male rumble, that she knew—though she’d never heard anything like it before—was the sound of his pleasure. His satisfaction.

That made her come even harder. And he didn’t stop. He kept going. He sucked her clit into his mouth, making her arch and sob, and she couldn’t get her head around the fact it was Tyler. Or what her body was even doing. She thought her eyes were closed, though she couldn’t tell for sure, and there was moisture leaking out of them. And she could hear the sounds he made, and the sounds he made her pussy make.

And everything was bright red, muscular and physical, and she was too hot. But she couldn’t seem to stop the noises she was making, or the way she lifted her hips toward him. Because she wanted more. Because she couldn’t think. Because she didn’t know what was happening to her, how she was expected to survive this.