Page 11 of The Satyr Next Door (Convergence Quickie #1)

Gina

Cal’s mouth was on mine, hungry and unrestrained, and I was wrapped around him like my body had been waiting for this all along. His hands gripped beneath me, strong and steady, lifting me as though I weighed nothing at all.

I gasped into the kiss, legs tightening around his waist. His answering groan rumbled against my chest, vibrating through me until I was dizzy with it.

“Cal,” I breathed when his lips trailed down my jaw to the curve of my throat.

He bit lightly, tongue soothing the sting, and I arched helplessly. I hadn’t been kissed like this in years, maybe never. Not careful, not perfunctory. Not like an obligation. This was worship. Devouring. A claiming that asked and answered in the same breath.

He carried me to the oversized chaise and sat, keeping me, straddling his lap like I belonged there.

“You came to me,” he murmured, eyes burning as his thumb stroked my cheek. His hand slid down, tugging my sleeve off my shoulder. “I was so afraid I’d ruined everything.”

“You didn’t,” I whispered.

Whatever restraint he’d been clinging to snapped.

His mouth descended on my neck, hot kisses dragging lower as he worked the bodice of my dress down, baring more skin.

The neckline slid, exposing the tops of the breasts I’d stuffed into my sexiest push-up bra half an hour ago, desperate to look like the kind of woman he’d want.

Half of me floated on desire, melting into every touch.

But the other part, the loud, practical voice that never really shut up was screaming that we were in broad daylight.

That in a second he was going to see not the fantasy, not the cleavage-enhanced illusion, but the truth.

The not-so-perky breasts. The faint stretch marks across my stomach.

The body that had carried two children and forty years of living.

Panic spiked. I pushed at his head, tugging the bodice back up, covering myself with trembling hands.

He stilled instantly. “What’s wrong, Bella ?” His tone was teasing, but his eyes searched mine, serious beneath the smile.

I loosened my legs around his waist, shame prickling. “I’ve had two children.” The words came out raw, defensive.

He didn’t let me slide off. His hands stayed firm on my hips, steadying me. Waiting.

“I’m forty years old,” I added, staring past him, unable to meet those eyes.

Understanding dawned slowly and softly across his face. And then he smiled, wicked and tender all at once.

“Oh, Gina,” he said, voice dropping reverent as a prayer. His hand caught the edge of the bodice again. “Do you think that makes you less?”

Before I could stop him, he tugged the fabric down, baring my bra and stomach, laying me open to the morning light. Every nerve screamed to cover myself, to hide.

But then his fingers brushed my skin, lingering over the soft curve of my stomach. The touch made me whimper, made heat rush through me despite the panic.

He leaned forward, kissing the line just beneath my ribs, soft lips pressing reverence into the places I hated most.

“Forty years,” he murmured against my skin. “Two children. And you think that diminishes you?” He lifted his gaze, pinning me with gold-flecked eyes. “No, Bella Mia. It makes you magnificent. Stronger. Riper. More dangerous to me than any untested girl.”

His words should have embarrassed me. Should have made me pull away, laugh it off, retreat back into the armor of self-deprecation I’d been polishing for years.

Instead, when his mouth pressed lower, soft lips trailing down the line of my stomach. I gasped, my hands flying to clutch at his curls instead of covering myself.

“Cal—”

“Shhh.” He kissed me again, just above my navel, reverent.

“You think I don’t see it? That your body has carried life, has survived love and loss, and still has the power to make me weak?

” His tongue flicked against the skin there, slow and deliberate.

“Every mark, every curve is proof that you were made for more than survival. You were made to be worshiped.”

Desire flooded me, banishing the shame. My hips rocked forward instinctively, pressing against his chest.

He looked up, eyes burning, lips wet from my skin. “Let me show you.”

Before I could speak, his hands slid higher, cupping my breasts through the bra I’d been so self-conscious about. He pushed the cups down, freeing me completely, and groaned like a starving man finally given food.

“ Goddess. ” The word came out like a prayer. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, teasing until they peaked under his touch.

I should have cared that the light was too harsh, that the reality of me didn’t live up to the fantasy. But the way he looked at me, his eyes dark with hunger, voice raw with awe, made me forget everything but him.

He bent his head and drew one aching peak into his mouth.

I cried out, fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked gently, then harder, tongue laving the sensitive skin until sparks shot down my spine and pooled low in my belly. His hand kneaded the other breast, fingers pinching lightly, and I moaned, shameless, arching against him.

“Cal, God—”

“More,” he demanded against my skin, voice thick. “Give me more, Bella. Let me taste all of you.”

He laid me back on the chaise, his strength making me feel weightless, and pressed my dress higher. His mouth followed, trailing kisses down my stomach, over the soft skin I’d hated, worshiping it with lips and tongue until my shame melted under the heat of his devotion.

When he reached the waistband of my underwear, he glanced up, waiting.

I hesitated only a heartbeat before nodding. “Yes.”

His grin was wicked, triumphant.

He slid the fabric down slowly, exposing me to the morning air, and settled between my thighs like a man kneeling at an altar.

I was trembling, every nerve strung tight. But when his tongue traced the slick line of me, slow and deliberate, every thought shattered.

“Oh, my God—”

He groaned like the taste was everything he’d ever wanted, his tongue circling my clit until I cried out, hips jerking helplessly. He held me down with firm hands, controlling the pace, alternating between lazy licks and devastating flicks that made me writhe.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against me, his voice vibrating through my most sensitive flesh. “Ripe. Sweet. Mine.”

The combination of his words and his mouth unraveled me fast. Pleasure built sharp and hot, coiling tighter with every stroke of his tongue, every nip of his lips.

“Cal—” My voice broke, my thighs clamping around his head, desperate.

He growled in answer, sucking harder, relentless, until the world shattered.

I came with a cry, every muscle seizing, pleasure tearing through me in wave after wave. He didn’t stop, he licked me through it, groaning into my flesh like my climax was his sustenance.

By the time the spasms subsided, I was boneless, shaking, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.

Cal pressed one last kiss to me before crawling up my body, bracing himself on those golden arms, eyes dark with reverence and hunger both.

“You see now, Bella?” His voice was rough. “You are everything. And I will never let you doubt it again.”

I pulled him down into a kiss, tasting myself on his tongue, and for the first time in years, I didn’t feel self-conscious. I felt powerful. Desired. Alive!