Escaping Reality

want to do for you.”
    I think of his comment about sharks and the certainty there is more
    to his story than I know. “And who helps you escape, Liam?”
    “We’re going to the same place, Amy. I’m not standing outside
    watching.” He dips his head low and his lips find my neck and then my ear.
    “I’m right here with you.”
    I squeeze my eyes shut, lavishing in the deep stroke of his hand down
    my back and the seductive reply of his words in my mind. Right here with
    you. That phrase shimmers down my spine and settles deep inside me. Liam
    is with me. In a tiny window of time, he has slipped past every wall I’ve
    erected.
    “Look at me, Amy.”
    I pry my lashes open at his soft command and I feel a punch in my
    chest when my eyes meet his. I am going to fall hard for this man. I already
    have.
    He leans in and kisses me, pressing my breasts together before
    dragging to tease my
    nipples, then dragging his mouth down my chin, to my neck and
    chest until his tongue laves one of my nipples, fulfilling a wish I so desired. I
    suck in a breath at the rough, wet heat suckling me, moving from one
    swollen tip to the next, mercilessly licking, nipping, teasing, and I can take
    no more.
    “Liam, enough. Please. I need—”
    “What I say you need,” he finishes, his hands cupping my backside,
    lifting my belly to his mouth, dipping his tongue in my belly button, and
    then licking all the way to my hipbone.
    Nipping the sensitive flesh, licking again.
    “Liam, damn it,” I pant, and I never curse, but then I am never this
    undone. “You are making me insane.”
    He smiles against my belly. “That’s the idea.”
    My quaking body disagrees. “No. No, it’s not. Pleasure is the idea.”
    “Pleasure,” he repeats, his eyes dancing with way too much male
    satisfaction for me to hope he’s done tormenting me. “I thought that’s
    what I was providing. Let’s see. How about this?” He lowers his head and
    licks my clit, and I gasp, then whimper as he swirls his tongue around me
    several times, then teasingly asks, “Is that pleasure?”
    I squeeze my thighs around his shoulders. “Stop tormenting me.”
    He blows on my clit. “It’s called foreplay.”
    My lashes flutter but I manage to glare at him. “No, it’s—”
    His mouth closes down on me, and waves of pleasure ripple through
    me. I tug at my hands, desperate to hold his head, to make sure he doesn’t
    stop this time. His fingers slide inside me, stretching me, caressing me. And
    his tongue, his amazing tongue, is both sandpaper and silk, stroking me to
    the edge, then masterfully soothing the ache. Over and over he licks me to
    the shadow of bliss, and pulls it back.
    “Liam,” I gasp, unable to take it anymore. I am trembling with how
    close I am and how far at the same time. Needing him to give me relief, but
    he does not. His mouth leaves my clit and he slides up my body, shifting our
    hips and settling his cock thickly between my thighs, his searing stare
    meeting mine. “We come together,” he says, and then presses inside me,
    stretching me, filling me, and I can barely breathe for the pleasure. I’d
    thought I’d wanted the sweet bliss his tongue had promised but in this
    moment, I know I did not. This is what I want. Together. He is where I need
    him but he does not move. He holds us there, his hands firmly on my hips,
    his shaft deep in my sex, and challenges me with, “What do you want,
    Amy?”
    “Everything,” I pant. “You. I want you.”
    His eyes darken, and he leans in, bringing our mouths a breath apart.
    “Everything?”
    It is a question and a demand, and in this moment, perhaps in every
    moment since I met him, there is only one answer. “And more.”
    He does not move. We do not move. There is a spike of energy
    between us, a shift that I have never experienced, and do not understand,
    but it is like a wicked burn in my body, a craving unsatisfied. “More,” he
    echoes a moment before he kisses me, and I taste the same burn in him,
    the same need. He molds me closer, arching into me, and begins to pump
    his hips. Time falls away. There is just the wild passion consuming us, and
    he is touching me, moving inside me, and I am going crazy with my hands
    tied. I want to touch him. I need to touch him.
    He is on edge too, his grip tightening around my hips, his face buried
    in my neck, and with a guttural moan, he pushes harder, deeper, and my
    sex is one deep pulse around his shaft that begins a wave of