A scar ran down the centre of her chest, a few smaller ones scattered along her side. My gaze lingered on them, not out of pity, but because they were part of her. Part of what made her, her.
“Cherry,” I lightly brushed over her scar. “You’re perfect.”
She rolled her eyes at me, like she didn’t believe me. So, I dropped to my knees, and her breath hitched as my hands slid up the backs of her thighs, thumbs hooking into the waistband of her leggings and panties.
“Ronan…”
I looked up at her. “Let me worship you.”
She bit her lip and gave the smallest nod, and that was all I needed. I tore everything down in one smooth pull, and fuck—there she was.Utter perfection.
I would drop down onto my knees for this woman every single day and beg.
“Has Malrik seen you like this?”
I don’t know why I ask; it just slipped out.
She tilted her head, eyes glinting. “Yes. Does that bother you?”
I hesitated.
Should it? Hunters don’t have relationships, and we definitely don’t share like the shifters or vamps. Most of us come fromhuman bloodlines, maybe a witch or two way back, like mine. Monogamy’s the tradition, the rule. But with her, I don’t know.
“As long as I get to have you too,” I said, voice low, “then yeah—fuck it. I’m good.”
She slid her fingers through my hair, brushing it back, a soft smile curving her lips.
“Just pissed that the lunatic saw you first,” I added, kissing up her stomach.
She giggled, and damn, it made something tight and warm wrap around my ribs.
“Well, you get to fuck me first.”
Hell. Fucking. Yes.
“I guess you’re right,” I muttered, before wrapping my lips around her nipple and sucking. My tongue flicked over the peak, and she gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders.
I love that sound.
I let her nipple slip from my mouth and kissed my way down, slowly, savouring every inch of her. My hands slid over the curve of her waist until I was face-to-face with her pussy.
And fuck, I wanted to stay there. I wanted to bury my face in her, make her come again and again until I was drowning in it, drunk off the sound of her moans and the feel of her thighs trembling around my head. I wanted her to tell me I’m a good boy with that beautiful smile—hell, maybe even with a collar around my neck.
I looked up at her from my knees, voice raw, honest. “Cherry, I want you to sit on my face and ride me until I can’t breathe. Tell me I’m your good boy. Use me. I want your thighs wrapped around my head while I drown in you.”
Because I would. I’d let her take every fucking piece of me, ruin me, own me. Crawl for her. Bleed for her. There wasn’t a goddamn inch of my body I wouldn’t give her, not one breath I wouldn’t choke on if she asked.
She tilted her head, those silver eyes cutting right through me. Cold. Wicked. Mine.
Her lips curved slowly. “I really like the sound of that,” she purred, dragging a single finger down her stomach toward where I wanted to bury myself.
“But how about you fuck me first?” Her voice dropped to a command. “And if you’re a really good boy, I’ll ride your face after. Make you come from nothing but my taste.”
Fucking hell.
She was everything, and she belonged to me.
My grin came easy, wide and reckless. “That’s one hell of a reward.”
