Page 66 of Her Remarkable Protector
I tense up, surprised by the imminent second orgasm, tempting me like a ripe fruit.No way.There’s no way I’m going to crawl away from this.
Chase’s move becomes increasingly urgent, his hardness becomes almost impossible to bear. My sex clenches, a reflex to dull the pain and at the same time, heighten my awareness of his hardness.
“You drive me crazy, Honor.” He amps up his rocking, sending us soaring and crashing against the mattress.
I savor this hurt—because it’s fucking glorious. I know one day my decision will bring a different kind of pain. But in this moment, Chase Samson is a lover I can’t get enough of. A box of instant addiction.
“And I want you—so damn crazy much,” I murmur, probably the most coherent thing I’ve said since he was inside me.
Alas, addiction is a paradox—the more forbidden it is, the sweeter its pull becomes. What do I do with the other box of his? One that I’ve vowed to destroy?
The answer can wait. Because right now, I’ll drink this jar of heavenly sweetness until the last drop.
Chase rocks his hips, and with one push, he devastates me. The flood of orgasm rages through me, washing me with sensations that are almost too perfect to believe. Like soaring with cherubs, gliding on a celestial swan, or standing in a petal shower spun by fairies. He calls my name again as he releases, pretty tame for a big guy like him. Just a few breathy groans, before he gives me a long, tender kiss.
A surprising conclusion. One that imprints itself in my mind as the perfect ending. Granting me a kiss is clearly more important to him than catching his breath. And as if that’s not enough, he runs his fingers along my cheek, fishing a contented sigh from me.
So this is Chase Samson on completion. Not a hint of post-sex machismo that I grew accustomed to with Damon, or the previous men for that matter. No repulsive grunts declaring ‘I’m the greatest,’ or a dismissive puff of a cigarette as if saying, ‘Nice fuck, thanks.’
Chase doesn’t hold back his power, yet he doesn’t hold back on his tenderness either.
A tear trails down the corner of my eye as he pulls free.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he whispers, his voice soft with concern. “Did I do something?”
It’s downright criminal how good I feel, even as his words twist something raw inside me. He thinks he’s at fault? Seriously? Men like this—selfless, so damn aware—almost feel like a myth. But then again, I’ve just had a double orgasm, so perhaps some myths are made to be broken.
I manage a shaky, “No.”
He lies beside me, cautious at first. But as I exhale and shift to make space, his hand finds my back, tracing slow, soothing patterns, as if coaxing me toward sleep. I want to, but I’m relishing the last drop of his sweetness, not knowing when I’ll taste it again.
25
HONOR
I’ve officially dubbed this getaway Chase’s Wildcard Retreat. Three days in, and the man’s still pulling out surprise after surprise. Whatever the plan, though, he’s made pampering me his full-time job. And Marianne? Sweet as pie, popping in with that almost ‘mother-in-law’ grin, clearly loving every second of checking in on us.
Right now, though, I’m on the phone with Oakley.
“Yeah, the twins have been keeping us on our toes. But hey, that just means I’ll be ready for Laramie. You might even want to consult me now—I’ve got experience,” Oakley says, his tone halfway between pride and mischief.
“I think I will,” I reply, glancing back at Chase. He’s waiting patiently, not saying or gesturing anything, but there’s a weight in his stillness. “Hey, Oak, I’ve got to go. Keep up the good work, okay? You’re crushing it. And tell the Connors I’m thinking of them.”
“Okay. Love you, Honor.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up and turn toward Chase.
“Everything okay?” he asks, his voice casual.
“Yeah. Apparently, Oakley is now a certified llama trainer, and a toddler whisperer,” I say, shaking my head.
Chase’s lips curve into a smile. “That kid really does it all, huh?”
“Yeah, next thing I hear, Boston the llama will be running for mayor.” I roll my eyes, and Chase laughs—a genuine, easy laugh—but there’s something beneath it. I lean forward slightly. “Actually, I should be asking you—are you okay?”
He pats the seat next to him on the porch. “Sit with me.”
