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Except his mouth on mine, making me crave everything he’s withholding.
Finally, Marrok urges my lips apart with a groan. The kiss shifts from persuasive to demanding as he takes possession. Need slams into me as if I hit a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour. I tumble into a black hole of sensation there’s no escaping.
This feels right. We feel inevitable.
I don’t understand why…but I can’t deny it.
As he takes my tongue, he saturates my senses. My world skews like a Tilt-O-Whirl. I get greedy for more.
Marrok fists his hand deeper in my hair, pulling me impossibly closer. More dizzying desire crashes over me. Heat flushes from my belly to my toes. The buzz in my brain picks up volume until it’s like a ten-thousand-dollar stereo blasting inside a compact.
“Your mouth…” He pants. “So bloody intoxicating.”
Me? This man is addicting. He makes me swoon. He holds me like I’m his whole existence. He seizes my mouth as if he’s not just determined to have me but obsessed.
After spending my whole life alone and unloved, this feeling—being the focus of a man’s uncontrollable desire—is my guilty, secret longing. And Marrok is giving it to me in spades.
Even if I escape and never see him again, as crazy as it sounds, I’ll bask in this memory forever.
I ache to surrender. All of me. However he wants me.
But I live in reality, not my secret fantasy. Oh, god. I can’t be so lonely that I succumb to some weird Stockholm syndrome.
Focus on escape. Don’t let him derail you.
As if Marrok senses my hesitation, he takes possession of my mouth again, deeper than before, claiming every corner and tasting every bit. The kiss muddles my thoughts.
Instead of wrapping my fingers around the wooden angel to use as a weapon, I curl my arms around his neck, grasping the thick column and tunneling my fingers into his inky hair.
With a groan, he grabs my hips and settles me against the hard thrust of his cock while surging even deeper into my mouth.
“Madness,” he growls between kisses. “I cannot taste you enough.”
He doesn’t wait for a response before devouring me again. I welcome him, openly, eagerly, until logical thought slips away. Until giving myself to Marrok feels necessary to my soul.
Until I stop fighting and surrender.
He lifts his head and scans my face. Wonder. Desire. Possessiveness. “My god. You do want me.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Nor can I.” His restless hands journey up my waist again, pausing just under my breasts. Anticipation lurches through my body.
“Please…” I whimper.
His stare delves into me as he takes my breast in his hot palm with a groan. “Fuck.”
My dizziness returns in force. I steady myself against him, but it’s no use. He swipes my tight nipple with his thumb. I pant. I arch. I beg with my stare. He watches my helpless reaction with rapt fascination.
“Do something.”
“Aye.” Marrok lifts me against his body, slanting his lips possessively over mine, and carries me down the hall.
To his bed.
In the dark, he tumbles me across the mattress that smells of cloves and moss. I reach for him, craving the press of his body on mine, the drive of his cock deep inside me.
His silver eyes glow as if he aches for all that and more.
