He hit the back of her throat and felt her choke, and then she breathed deep and took him deeper. Swallowing. Massaging him with the muscles of her throat. Giving him that. Giving him something so beautiful he could barely comprehend. He was dazed, shocked, pumping into her mouth, guiding her with her own hair.

Her mouth was hot and tight and she didn’t stop. She made little desperate noises, as if she couldn’t get enough of him. As if she was so hungry for him, she was frantic. Every sound she made vibrated through his cock, adding to the fire scorching him. Her fingers dug deep into his buttocks, urging his hips to move into her. Her mouth tightened as he moved in and out. Then he was there. He felt it moving through him, shattering him. Hot jets of his essence pouring into her, down her throat, and the suction softened, gentled, became tender and sweet.

Elijah lay there, one hand covering his eyes, breathing deep, unable to process what she’d just given him. What she was still giving him. His eyes burned like a son of a bitch. His throat felt raw. For the first time he knew what real love felt like. Intense. Scary. Painful. So fucking painful. He was Elijah Lospostos. Just about every member of his family had been nothing but brutal and vile. There was no sweet. There was no clean, and there was no woman loving and adoring.

“I don’t deserve you, Siena,” he choked out.

She licked up his shaft, over the sensitive crown, and then pressed kisses over him, kissing her way up to his belly where she laid her head. Her hair slid over him like a cover of silk.

“You deserve me, Elijah. You’re arrogant and bossy and I’m going to have to kick you once in a while, but your sweet takes my breath away.”

He sifted his fingers through her hair. “Baby, I really have to go. Take a hot bath or you’re going to be sore. I don’t want you sore for very selfish reasons. As soon as I take care of whatever it is Drake needs me for, I’ll fix us dinner.”

She turned her head, chin digging into his belly, her eyes on his face. “I like that you cook.”

“I’m a good cook.” He enjoyed cooking. It reminded him of his grandmother, the one person in his life who had been really good to him.

“I’m not. But I want to learn. Will you teach me?”

“I don’t mind being the cook.”