Page 32 of Loving Amari

Another yawn follows, my body growing heavy with exhaustion.

“I wonder if there’s a way to reach out to Tabatha in the afterlife,” I say, my words slurring with sleepiness. “I’m going to ask Angie in the morning. She knows Tabatha would have some answers on how to help them.”

I slowly fall asleep on top of him, feeling comfort in his solid presence beneath me, his scent surrounding me like the safest cocoon.

My eyes flutter open the next morning, and I’m on my back. Confusion hits me for a moment before I feel it—Amari’s head between my legs. Morning light spills across the bed. I look over to his side, and then I gasp when his tongue swipes against my sensitive flesh.

“Oh...” The sound escapes me as my hand comes to the back of his head, fingers threading through his short curls.

He starts to push my legs back, opening me wider to his hungry mouth. The cool morning air hits my heated skin, creating a delicious contrast.

“Oh my god, what are you doing?” I manage to say between gasps, though the answer is obvious.

“What do you think I’m doing?” His voice vibrates against me, sending shockwaves through my body. “I’m having my morning breakfast.”

I grin at that, then moan again when he starts to feast with more enthusiasm. His tongue explores every fold, every sensitive spot. Long strokes have me gripping the sheets. His mouth is wet and perfect as he worships me with single-minded devotion.

The pleasure builds in waves, each sweep of his tongue pushing me higher. He knows exactly how to work my body, alternating between gentle teasing licks and more intensepressure. My hips buck against his face as he captures my clit between his lips, sucking gently while his tongue flicks against it.

“Amari!” I cry out as he plunges his tongue inside me, the wet muscle stroking my inner walls in a rhythm that makes me writhe.

He doesn’t respond, just grips my hips firmly as he begins to pound into me from behind. His pace is brutal, merciless. I’m still so sensitive that every movement sends shockwaves of pleasure-pain through me.

My climax builds and builds, pressure coiling tighter. When it crashes over me, I scream his name, my back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure roll through me. But he doesn’t stop. He continues his feast, drawing out every aftershock until I’m trembling and oversensitive.

I just stare at the ceiling from the powerful release, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. My whole body tingles, and I feel boneless, completely satiated.

Amari slowly climbs on top of me, kissing my cheek tenderly. His hands caress my breasts before he buries his face in my neck, breathing me in deeply.

“Good morning,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice full of satisfaction and love.

“I don’t even know my own name right now,” I manage to say, still floating in post-release bliss. “It’s insane how you do that to me.”

Amari moves his face from my neck and sits up, kissing my lips softly. I taste myself on him as he stares into my eyes with so much love it makes my heart skip. In moments like these, I understand why he fears losing me—I feel the same terror at the thought of losing him.

“How about a shower?” Amari suggests, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I yawn and stretch my arms out, feeling deliciously used, then wrap them around his neck. “Okay.”

“I love the idea of going to limbo with you today,” he says, his expression growing serious, though his eyes still hold that post-intimate softness.

“It’s just a trial run,” I remind him. “And if it gets too dangerous, I’m sending you back.”

“Okay,” he agrees easily. “I just love the fact that you’re willing to try for me.”

“I don’t like that the mate bond is painful for you when I have to leave. And since I lose my perception of time when I’m in there, I never know how long I’m gone.” The guilt of causing him pain gnaws at me.

I run my hands over his arms, memorizing the feel of him, and Amari just stares at me with so much love that it scares me. The way he looks at me, the depth of emotion there—sometimes it’s overwhelming to be loved so completely, so unconditionally.

He scoops an arm under me and pulls me up from the bed, lifting me into his arms as he stands in one smooth motion and carries me to the bathroom.

11

AMARI

Carla sits cross-legged on the leather couch, her hands dancing with pink, web-like magic while I comb through the Brookstone and Blackburn files on my computer. Each encrypted layer I break through reveals another, like a digital Russian doll designed to frustrate even the most patient vampire.

“Found anything?” she asks without looking up from her magical practice.