Page 58 of Almost Ravaged (Men of Evercrisp Orchard #1)

Chapter forty-nine

Sawyer

I press Mercer back into the mattress, then climb on top before I can lose my nerve. I’m naked beneath the sheets, but he came to bed wearing fresh boxer briefs. The soft cotton fabric is all that separates us as I drape my body over his and plant a sweet kiss on his stubbled jaw.

He turns up the heat by capturing my mouth in a long, X-rated kiss.

After being startled awake from a nightmare, my heart raced, but as his warmth soaks into me, my pulse steadies.

“You want a distraction, Ms. Davvies?” he asks.

I splay my hands over his bare chest. He’s all lean, hard muscle below me, solid and steady.

“Yes, Professor,” I tease, trailing kisses down his Adam’s apple. I stop at the hollow of his throat, and he swallows against my lips, the muscles there stretching and straining.

His hand weaves into my hair and massages my scalp, bringing a new sense of ease. “If you want another hard and fast fuck, we should probably leave the room. I don’t want to wake Noah.”

My stomach drops, and anxiety twists my insides .

As much as I love it hard and fast, I need something else after that dream.

Tentatively, I pull back and plant my hands on his chest. “What we did tonight was incredible,” I whisper.

“It was carnal and feral and hotter than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life.

But I don’t want to be ravaged right now, Professor.

” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, pushing down the fear that comes with asking for what I need.

“I want it soft and slow. Do you think you can do that for me?”

He stills, his body locking up beneath me.

I swoop in and peck him softly on the lips, giving him reassurance. But when I pull back, he shakes his head.

“Maybe we should wake Noah,” he suggests, his grip on my thighs tightening. “He’d be better at this.”

Lips pursed, I try to unpack his reply. The comment doesn’t come off as self-deprecating. It’s matter of fact, which means he believes it to be true. Unfortunately, Mercer has far too much emotional depth for me to believe he’s not capable of what I’m asking.

I bring my face to his and nudge his nose with mine. “Nonsense, Professor. I have a feeling you contain multitudes.”

He smirks, but he doesn’t object.

Taking that as a good sign, I retrace the trail of kisses I left on his neck, continue down his sternum, and keep going lower, lower, and lower still.

I take my time, learning and savoring the taste of his skin on my tongue. When the dark hair of his happy trail tickles my nose, I giggle.

At his waistband, I tuck my fingers beneath the elastic and look up for confirmation that he’s okay with what I intend to do.

Though it’s dark, he knows what I’m asking.

“For you, I’ll try.”

A tender warmth blooms inside me as I peel his briefs down. Once he’s kicked them off, I sit back on my haunches and take him in.

He’s exquisite.

He’s propped up slightly against his pillow so he can watch me, one arm slung behind his head and his legs spread wide. His erection is visible through the darkness, hard and proud, begging for my attention.

I drag my hands up his calves, then along the curve of his muscles and tendons over his knees before continuing up his thighs .

Before I reach my intended destination, my fingertips graze over puckered skin, the sensation giving me pause.

My breath catches. The difference in texture is significant. Calloused, raised bumps adorn both his inner thighs.

The large splotches of ink decorating his skin are visible, and I noticed his thigh tats once I had my wits about me in the tub, but I can’t imagine tattoos would leave this kind of scarring.

My heart aches as understanding clicks into place.

I don’t want to ask. Ruin the moment. Pry into something he doesn’t want to discuss with me. But by the way his legs are tensing, he knows I’ve discovered them; I can’t just move past without an acknowledgment.

Before I can formulate the proper words, Mercer clears his throat. “They are what you think they are,” he tells me plainly.

His candor brings a little wave of relief with it.

He didn’t push me about my nightmares. I have no intention of pushing him about this. But I respect him too much not to show my appreciation for his willingness to share.

“They’re part of you.” I gather my hair over one shoulder and angle lower. “Part of your story. Thank you for not hiding from me.” I kiss the mottled skin of his left inner thigh, then switch sides and plant kisses all over the right as well.

He tenses on contact, but he doesn’t stop me.

Nor does he use a safe word. Already, we’ve formed the kind of trust in one another that allows us to be vulnerable.

That’s the beauty of having established our dynamic so early, I suppose.

I know without a shadow of a doubt that if something isn’t working or doesn’t feel good, he’ll tell me right away.

I move up his thighs, leaving sloppier, wetter kisses as I approach my final destination and give his shaft a quick, tentative tug. When he groans quietly, I do it again, this time using both hands, one on top of the other, sheathing him completely save for the little bit of tip exposed at the top.

Like this, my grip firm but not tight, I lick and lavish the crown. After a few seconds, he hisses and rolls his hips, seeking more.

With a smile, I remove one hand and give the tip another lick, then work it up and down, up and down. I take him deeper, and deeper still, coating him with my saliva. Then I give him a few quick pumps, straddle him once more, and line his length up at my entrance .

He’s right there. At the precipice. The warm, wet stiffness of his erect cock nudging between my lips, teasing and begging to slide inside.

With a deep breath in, I drop my weight, taking several inches of him in one go.

“Incredible,” Mercer whispers through the dark.

As I roll my hips, taking him deeper, we both let out quiet, desperate groans. I’m wet and needy, still filled with his cum, making it easy to envelop him completely.

When he’s fully seated inside me, I lean forward and drape my softness around his solid chest, then capture his mouth in a kiss. “This is what I wanted.”

Him, buried deep inside me.

Us, together in bed, our bodies molding into something bright and new while drawing pleasure from one another.

He bites my lip and tugs. Once he’s released me, he smooths my hair off my face with both hands. “I’ve never felt anything as exquisite as your warm, wet, needy little pussy. You’re taking me so deep I feel like I’m a part of you.”

I clench around him, locking him in place and kissing him again. He follows my lead, plying me with slow, drugging kisses that make my pussy flutter. Sweet kisses that cause butterflies to take flight behind my ribcage.

When I can’t take the fullness for a moment longer, I arch back and roll my hips forward.

This angle is different and delicious; a sharp contrast to the way he fucked me out in the cornfield.

I roll my hips again, my inner muscles tensed, taking him with me.

On a quiet groan, he picks up on my rhythm, his smooth upward thrusts hitting just the right spot.

He builds me up. He drives me higher. He goes slow, stays quiet, and never takes his hands off me.

When I’m right there—so close I can hardly stand it, so high I want to cry—he pulls my body flush against his and buries his face in my neck. Then he fucks into me, chanting praises.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Come for me. Let go for me. You’re safe with me. I’m so glad you’re here.”

I am safe. I am wanted .

I asked for what I needed, and despite not knowing whether he could provide it, Mercer tried. He tried, and he succeeded. I’ve never felt more cherished than I do in this moment, with our bodies pressed together, our breathing in sync.

Waves of bliss overwhelm all my senses, bringing tears to my eyes.

When I finally come undone, it feels more like being put back together.