Honor Bound by Joey Hill (speld decodable readers .txt) 📕

She shook her head.

“Good.”

On the word, he bent his head and started all over again, tracing every ruffle and fold with the tip of his tongue, humming deep in his throat. She’d had no idea a man could have so much tenderness in him, or how much he might truly enjoy this. Rhio was wet and noisy, more uninhibited than she could ever have imagined. He gave her no mercy, drowning her in sumptuous pleasure, laving, licking, suckling, nuzzling.

Believe it, he’d said. By the First Mother!

As it went on and on, her bones turned to butter, her neck going loose on the pillow, the muscles in her thighs lolling open for him. Rhio slid a finger back into her sheath, crooking it to massage the spot that drove her crazy, right behind her clit. Grabbing one of her hands, he placed it on a tingling breast. “Play with yourself, love.”

Then he settled in to drive her insane, spreading her thighs with his shoulders, swooping on her swollen clit, pushing back the little hood with his tongue, tapping and

suckling—all of it in time with the busy finger stroking that fluttering patch of sensitive tissue inside.

He was building it for her again, that overwhelming conviction the rapture would break her apart, with only his strength to anchor her shattered soul as she spun out into the exquisite dark. The tension wound up another excruciating notch, an all-encompassing clamp in her loins, so cruel and beautiful she couldn’t bear it, not another moment.

Shuddering, she forced out a single word. “Rhio.”

A lingering, spiraling lick that nearly brought her undone. “Mmm?”

“Not . . . without you.” Amae squeezed her breasts, raised her hips in shameless invitation. “Now . . . fuck me now.”

An instant’s silence and he was surging over her, taking her thighs in his strong hands to splay her wide. Smooth and hot, his broad head notched at the narrow opening to her body and she gasped. Rhio thrust, seating himself to the halfway point in a single luxurious plunge. “Fuck!” His lashes fluttered.

She clenched around his girth in delighted apprehension.

Rhio pulled in a huge breath. “All . . . right?”

Almost sobbing, she locked her ankles in the small of his back, urging him forward.

“Yes, yes!”

He slid balls-deep, a bar of thick hot flesh furrowing through slick tissues, cramming her full. The mat of hair on his chest rasped her burning nipples; his big body wrapped her up. He clasped her head between his hands, hips already flexing. “Won’t . . . last long.”

For answer, she pulled him down, plastering her mouth against his. Rhio opened to let her in, his taste strange, different—sweet, salty and musky. The essence of her femininity covered his tongue, his lips. He’d loved her as no Trinitarian male would stoop to do, this consummate warrior—gods, this man!

The thought tripped a switch in the most primitive part of her brain. Moaning into his mouth, Amae rode the exploding wave of her climax as if it were a sandstorm whirling across the desert. Helplessly, she shuddered, the spasms grinding her down on Rhio’s long bulk, her strong internal muscles clenching hard, harder.

Cursing, Rhio pulled back and thrust. By the fourth stroke, he was thundering into her, the head of the bed rattling and banging into the wall, prolonging Amae’s orgasm almost beyond her endurance. By the eighth, his rhythm had degenerated to a rub and grind, desperately deep, and she was savoring the last lingering ripples of her climax, coming down. Slipping over the peak into a warm sea of bone-melting contentment, she held him tight, watching in awe as he lost the battle to hold back the inevitable. He threw his head back, every tendon on his neck standing out in high relief.

“Gods! Ah, fuck! Fuck!”

As Rhio jammed himself inside her, groaning, Amae reached down to grip his taut

buttocks, digging in, feeling the strong muscles flex with the power of his release. Again and again. It seemed to last a long time, but at last, he collapsed, burying his face in her neck, his breath hot and rapid, stirring her hair.

Strangely content despite the not inconsiderable weight of him, she relaxed, hooking her feet over his calves and drawing her fingertips along his sides, caressing a shoulder blade in small wobbly circles. Her mind had gone foggy, a soft, dark mist, and she was happy for it to be so, to have this moment.

Rhio let out a long breath. He braced himself on an elbow and stroked the hair out of her eyes. “Sorry. Got away from me at the end. I didn’t hurt you?”

When she smiled, her lips trembled. How odd. “No.”

He eased himself away, the wash of his seed trickling over her thighs. Rolling onto his back, he scooped up the shirt she’d discarded from the floor and spread it beneath her hips, shielding her from the wet spot. “Come here.” He tucked her against his body, radiating as much heat as the fire at her back. “Warm enough?”

The tears came out of nowhere. To her horror, she couldn’t hold them back. The sobs were worse, wave after wave of them, gathering in her chest, so big and hard-edged they bruised her throat on the way out. Rhio froze. When she tried to wrench herself away, hide her face, he held her firmly, secure in his embrace.

He rubbed a bristly cheek against the top of her head. “Shhh, love, shhh.”

Amae had grieved for her parents, her brother, her people, but now the storm burst for her—for the child-woman she’d been, for the brutal theft of possibility from her life. For the first time, she comprehended the full measure of what she’d missed, what had been ripped from her—arms to hold her in the night, a man, a good man, who thought she was a friend worth the having, a woman worth the loving. Like the man who cradled her against his chest, rocking her back and forth. When Rhio looked at her,