Page 64 of The Casualty of Us (Philosophies of the Heart Duet #1)

“Oh.” The quiet sound slips past my lips as I take him in, my eyes going from the rosy tip all the way down and back up again.

And it’s strangely…beautiful, in a way, like marble that looks soft to the touch.

Standing at attention with a thick vein going straight up from the bottom to the top and perfectly paired with a body that would make Michelangelo weep. But also…

“That’s going to hurt me so bad.” My voice comes out a little high, almost like I’m pleading for it not to because…nope, there’s no getting around that. “Like so , so—”

“O.” The amusement in his voice has me glancing up to find him pretty much looking like he’s at war with himself. “That will never happen until you’re ready, okay?” I give him a nod, and his lips lift with a soft reminder. “We’re just playing here.”

“Okay,” I breathe, stomach giving another flip as curiosity pushes me to reach out and run my fingers up over the vein from the base hesitantly.

Sucking in a breath when he jerks as I get to the tip and wrapping my hand around him at the movement.

Trying really freaking hard to remember anything I ever read about this and finding my brain only half cooperative.

I grip him harder, fingers barely meeting, and stroke my hand down while dropping my lips to his tip.

The harsh sound that leaves him and the way his hand goes to where mine is resting on his thigh gives me all the encouragement I need to pull him into my mouth.

The taste of him surprising me with how it’s similar to how he tastes everywhere else but a little salty too.

More….potent maybe, I guess. A hum of appreciation leaves me, though, and I suck him further into my mouth while moving my hand up and down at his base.

“Fuck.” His hand leaves mine with the curse, fingers hitting the back of my head a second later before he stops to choke out, “Can I touch your hair?”

And it kills me a little bit, the request, that he even has the presence of mind to ask it right now much less have that much of his brain left to think about me.

It has me pulling up enough to nod while running my tongue over his head.

Heart clenching up and that determination growing in me to make this good for him.

His fingers immediately wrap in the back of my hair, hips lifting up even as I drop down again, stroking him and finding a rhythm together.

I only make it about halfway down before he hits the back of my throat but quickly realize by the tension still running through his thighs that he’s holding back.

It has me trying to go down further the next time only to feel his head hit my throat and gag, pulling back as he gasps out.

“You’re doing so good, baby, okay?” I flick my tongue against his tip, and his fingers tighten in my hair, hips thrusting as he groans.

“Just keep breathing and try to swallow, yeah?” Immediately going back down and attempting to do just that, I wait until he hits the back of my throat before swallowing through my next breath and feeling him slip further down. “Fuck—yes, just like that.”

His fingers press my head down for a second before he pulls back and I rise up, letting him take over some of the control.

A warmth growing in my chest from the way he sounds like he’s losing it just a bit that has me running my teeth lightly over his tip the next time.

Curiosity pushing me to find out his reaction, and when he immediately pushes my head back down with a groan, gasping out on his next breath, “Fucking made for me.”

I realize I love it. The praise. Knowing that what I’m doing is hitting just right for him too.

It has me shifting my legs as that same urgency sets in between them, but I just hollow my cheeks out, giving up some of that control while letting him take over.

Finding that warmth in my chest growing with every little jerk and sound he lets out, making the choice in this moment to find my happiness in his because…

he’s earned it, the trust necessary for such a thing.

It’s why I don’t pull back even when his hips start to lift faster and my eyes start to water.

I keep making the choice to let him have the control here because I can still feel the care. It’s everywhere somehow.

It’s in the way his fingers seem to be massaging the back of my head even as he pushes it down.

In the way he pulls back after a few seconds when my gag reflex kicks in no matter how much I swallow.

In the way his other hand goes to mine and he winds our fingers together as his thrusts start to come harder, a never-ending stream of words falling from his lips with them.

“Just like that—god, O—you’re perfect, baby.

” He hits the back of my throat hard, and I swallow repeatedly as he chokes out, “That’s my girl.

” He immediately pulls back only to thrust again quickly and gasp, “I’m going to come. ”

His fingers try to pull at my hair, but this is one thing I have no plans of making my determination on based on secondhand information.

“Ophelia.” My name comes more urgently this time, and I let up enough to run my tongue over the vein running up the length of his cock before sucking him down deep.

“O, I’m going to—fuck—” His cock jerks against my tongue, head jumping with it before something hot spills against the back of my throat and he groans, “Ophelia.”

And it somehow seals that pleasurable warmth in my chest with the fact that it’s my name he calls out.

It has me swallowing him down with my nose scrunching up at the taste but finding it’s not terrible.

Staying there until his cock stops jerking in my mouth and he gives a gentle tug on the back of my head.

I peek up at him through my lashes while rising up and finally letting him slip completely from my mouth, finding a weight to his gaze that surprises me until I look long enough to see what’s driving it.

The blatant possession casts the green and brown hues behind the little gold lights of his eyes in a dark shade, and there’s dip to his brows that’s telling me he just feels the need to back that up further now.

It all has me thinking I may have miscalculated just slightly on one aspect here.

The care, though…it’s practically pouring off him still.

It’s in the way he drops his hand from the back of my head to pull his sweatpants up before bringing his thumb to my bottom lip. It’s in the way he still swipes it across like he couldn’t care less about the wetness there. It’s in the way he swallows hard and his eyes never leave mine.

It’s in the way every part of me feels cherished—safe—with some essence of his energy wrapping itself around mine. Just like always.

It has me quickly lifting and scooting myself back up until I’m straddling him again. Reaching out a hand to cup his cheek and ignoring the flare of vulnerability at how I’m continuing to expose myself in every sense right now. Trusting him.

“You matter to me, okay?” I whisper, running my fingers over his cheek and seeing the way his eyes flare at the words like they still surprise him.

“Ollie might remind me of the good, but you—” Something too soft and sad to be a laugh leaves me, and I curse Marley to hell in my head while sucking in a sharp breath to get out…

“You make me want to believe, Hayes.” My voice cracks at the confession, and his gaze immediately starts to fill with concern.

“Because I believe in you, okay?” His hands go to my hips, squeezing there as his own face twists up right along with mine.

“And for me…that’s everything.” I pause, blinking past the burn in my eyes to finish with the truth I’ve known since last year.

“I like being your Ophelia the best out of all of them.”

We stare at each other as the silence stretches between us, hazel pulling at the blue as it continues to light up with every second that passes until his dimples twitch.

“Freckles.” He lifts a hand to brush his thumb gently over my cheek with his voice dropping teasingly.

“Is that your way of saying you want to be my girlfriend?”

Totally giving as good as he gets and making me fight a grin at the playfulness, I lift a brow instead. “Did you have something else in mind?”

“How about…” He trails off, gaze running over the lines of my face before he lifts up and presses his lips to mine with the answer. “Mine.”

And I can’t help the grin that breaks free at that, whispering back, “Guess I can’t argue with that.”