BOOK 3: Chapter 23: The Morning Seduction

BOOK 3: Chapter 23: The Morning Seduction

Amanda exhales the next morning, her body limp and aching with exhaustion. Every muscle feels tender, stretched, used. She stretches slowly on the bed, eyes half-lidded, her limbs dragging against the sheets like they’re weighed down by invisible chains. The images of last night drift through her mind like wildfire smoke—blurry, heated, impossible to ignore.

And her chest tightens with the wave of emotions that follows.

It’s too much. Too confusing. Too tangled.

A part of her—an overwhelming, greedy part—relished every second of what they did. That part of her is still thrumming, still craving more, as though her body had been marked by him, rewired to respond only to him.

But there’s another part. The part that curls up in shame, that whispers this is wrong. That rakes guilt like claws across her chest. She buries her fingers in her hair, sighing as frustration flares like a spark in dry straw.

She should just give up.

There’s no real way out of this now. No path that leads her away from him without her body screaming in protest. No clean line she can draw that he won’t step over—devour—just to have her again.

She’s still lost in thought when she feels the unmistakable touch of fingers tracing up her thigh—light, teasing. Her heart jumps, and she spins her head sharply over her shoulder.

Adrian is lying behind her, still completely naked, one hand already sliding between her thighs with all the confidence of a man who knows he owns her body. That damned smirk curls over his lips, smug and seductive.

She rolls her eyes, turning away quickly. “Oh my God… not now.”

But he doesn’t give her the luxury of distance. His hand tightens around her hip, and his voice is suddenly a growl against her ear.

“Nope. Nope. Nope. Not this morning,” he declares, flipping her over with infuriating ease, rolling her onto her back as if she weighed nothing. “It’s time for your early morning breakfast.”

Her eyes fly open as she stares at him, stunned. “What the hell does that even mean?”

He doesn’t answer. Not with words.

In a blink, he’s already moved between her legs, pushing them apart, lifting them onto his shoulders in one smooth motion. She gasps, hands instinctively trying to pull her gown down, to preserve a shred of decency, but it’s already far too late for modesty with him.

“Adrian, it’s too early,” she hisses, blinking rapidly. “What are you doing?”

But he only lowers his head, his breath warm against her inner thigh. “Shhh. Let me wake you up properly.”

“Adrian—stop. Seriously, you need to—”

His lips brush the sensitive skin just beside her center, slow and deliberate. Her whole body shudders.

He drags his tongue lazily up her thigh, tracing teasing circles that make her eyelids flutter and her back arch despite her resistance. The sharp warning in her voice has already softened, melted. Her fingers grip the sheets.

God, why is this so hard?

She clenches her fists against the bed, trying to hold on to whatever threads of rational thought are left. She should stop him. She should push him away and regain control of this madness before it completely consumes her.

But she doesn’t.

Her body betrays her again.

She lets out a shaky breath, trying again to resist. “Adrian… I mean it. You’ve got to stop.”

He glances up at her with that wicked gleam in his eyes, then leans in even closer, voice like velvet soaked in sin.

“Stop fighting what you want, baby girl.”

And then he buries his mouth in her folds.

A cry rips from her throat, loud and helpless, as her back arches violently off the bed. Her fingers tangle in the sheets. Her hips lift to meet his mouth on instinct. His tongue slides between her folds, slow at first, lapping her with long, measured strokes, savoring every inch of her.

“Oh God… oh yes… right there, right there…”

Her voice breaks into whimpers, legs trembling on his shoulders. Adrian chuckles softly, proud of the mess he’s already made of her. His hands slide up from her thighs to her belly, then to her chest, dragging the straps of her gown down with one flick of his fingers.

Her breasts spill free, nipples already hard, begging for touch.

“Fuck,” he mutters against her pussy, his voice vibrating through her as he lifts his head just a little to look at her. “You look so fucking beautiful when you’re crying for me.”

He takes one hand and cups her breast, massaging it gently, rolling the nipple between his fingers. The other hand anchors her hips down as his mouth returns to her clit, sucking, licking, teasing with a rhythm that sends her straight to the edge.

She’s trembling all over now, her breaths shallow and panicked, her moans louder and more desperate.

Her legs twitch and squeeze around his head, but he doesn’t stop—he only doubles down. His mouth devours her, tongue flicking and curling, lips sucking hard on her swollen clit until she can barely breathe.

“Adrian—Adrian, I—oh fuck—!”

She comes with a scream, her orgasm tearing through her like a firestorm. Her hips jerk wildly against his mouth, her whole body spasming. She cries out again, louder this time, her thighs clamping around his head like a vice. Her juices flood his mouth, and he groans into her, sucking harder as if he can’t get enough.

Her hands fly to his head, gripping his hair, tugging as she rides out the waves, panting, moaning, eyes rolling back.

Adrian grins into her, his lips glossy with her release.

“This is just the beginning, baby girl,” he whispers, his voice a growl of unrelenting hunger. “I’m never going to stop.”

And he proves it.

He shoves his tongue deep inside her without warning, pushing past her folds with slick, frantic movements that make her legs spasm again. She gasps, arching into him as his tongue fucks her mercilessly, every thrust timed with the desperate squeezing of his fingers on her breasts.

“Ahhh! Oh—God—Adrian—!”

He moans against her, drinking every drop, every cry, every tremble. She can’t control the way her hips buck up toward him or the way her nails rake through his hair, clinging to him like she’ll die if he stops.

He doesn’t stop.

He devours her like she’s the only thing he needs to breathe, like her taste is the only thing keeping him alive. She cries out again, trembling with another orgasm building far too soon.

He knows her body too well now.

And she’s powerless to resist.

Powerless to stop herself from crashing right over the edge again.