"Fuck, Artemis." He sounded almost reverent, his amber eyes roaming over my body like he was seeing it for the first time. His hand hovered over my breast, not quite touching, the heat of his palm radiating against my skin. "You're so beautiful."
"Touch me." I arched up into his hand, closing the distance myself, my back lifting off the mattress, my fingers reaching for his wrist to guide him. We both groaned when his palm finally made contact with my breast, warm and rough against my skin. His fingers flexed against my flesh, kneading gently, his thumb finding my nipple and circling until it peaked under his touch.
"Bossy," he teased, but there was no bite to it, just warmth and want as he watched his own hand on my body. He lowered his head and replaced his thumb with his tongue, laving the sensitive peak with broad, wet strokes that made me writhe beneath him, my fingers tangling in his hair.
But I wanted more. Wanted him wrecked the way I was getting wrecked. I shoved at his shoulders, and he went—Loss flickering across his face until I followed him down, pushing him flat on his back and straddling his hips in one smooth motion. The surprise in his amber eyes melted into something darker when I pinned his wrists above his head, leaning down until my bare breasts brushed his chest.
"My turn," I said against his mouth, and felt his whole body shudder beneath me.
"Fuck yes." His voice had gone rough, his hips rolling up against me instinctively, the hard length of him pressing against my core through his jeans. "Whatever you want, chere. I'm yours."
I kissed down his throat, feeling his pulse hammer against my lips, tasting salt and that honey-smoke scent that was purely Remy. His chest was smooth under my mouth, golden skin warm from the candlelight, and when I found his nipple and flicked my tongue across it, his back arched off the mattress.
"Didn't expect that," he gasped, his hands flexing where I still had them pinned, his stomach muscles clenching as I scraped my teeth across the sensitive peak.
"Pay attention." I released his wrists to work at his belt, and he immediately buried his fingers in my hair, not pushing—just holding, like he needed something to anchor himself. The belt came free, then the button, then the zipper, and I dragged his jeans and boxers down together, freeing him.
He was hard and flushed, his cock curving up toward his stomach, a bead of moisture already gathering at the tip. I wrapped my hand around him and watched his eyes slam shut, his jaw going tight, a groan rumbling through his chest.
"Artemis—" My name came out strangled, his hips jerking up into my grip. "Your hand—fuck?—"
I stroked him slowly, learning what made him gasp—a twist at the head that made his thighs tense, a squeeze at the base that pulled a sound from him like I was hurting him in the best way. Then I lowered my head and took him into my mouth. The noise he made wasn't human. His whole body went rigid, his fingers spasming in my hair, French curses spilling from his lips in a broken stream. I took him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, working my tongue along the underside until he was shaking beneath me, his thighs trembling with the effort of staying still.
"Stop—" He tugged at my hair, pulling me off, his chest heaving. "Need to be inside you. Now. Right now." His voice was wrecked, desperate, his amber eyes wild when they met mine.
He hooked his fingers in my underwear and dragged them down my legs, tossing them somewhere behind us withoutlooking. Then I crawled up his body and straddled him again, positioning him at my entrance. We both groaned when I sank down—slow, feeling every inch of him stretching me open, filling me until I couldn't breathe. His hands clamped onto my hips hard enough to bruise, his head thrown back against the pillows, tendons straining in his neck.
"Move," he gritted out through clenched teeth, the tendons in his neck straining, his fingers flexing convulsively on my hips. "Please, chere, I need?—"
I moved. Rolled my hips in slow circles that made us both moan, then lifted up and sank back down, finding a rhythm that had the houseboat rocking beneath us. His hands guided me but didn't control—letting me take what I needed, his eyes fixed on where we joined like he couldn't look away.
"That's it," he breathed, his thumbs stroking the crease of my hips, his amber eyes heavy-lidded as he watched me move above him. "Take what you need. God, you're gorgeous like this?—"
"All talk." The words slipped out before I could stop them, a challenge I hadn't meant to issue. I ground down hard, feeling him bottom out inside me, watching his jaw clench. "You're all pretty words and charm, Remy Boudreaux. I bet you can't even?—"
His expression shifted. The playful lover vanished like smoke, replaced by something feral and dark that made my breath catch in my throat. His amber eyes went molten, his jaw tightening, and I felt the change in his body beneath me—every muscle coiling, tensing, like a predator about to strike.
Before I could finish the sentence, he moved. His hands clamped onto my hips and he flipped us in one fluid motion—my back hitting the mattress hard enough to bounce, his body covering mine before I could draw breath, his cock never leaving me. The shift in position drove him deeper, punching a gaspfrom my lungs, and suddenly I wasn't on top anymore. Suddenly I wasn't in control of anything.
"Can't even what?" His voice had dropped an octave, rough and dangerous against my ear, his breath hot on my skin. He gathered both my wrists in one hand and pinned them above my head, pressing them into the pillow hard enough that I couldn't move them. His other hand gripped my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave fingerprints, to bruise. "Finish that thought, chere. I dare you."
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My brain had gone blank, every thought scattered by the way he was looking at me—like he wanted to devour me whole, like he was going to take me apart piece by piece and enjoy every second of it.
"That's what I thought." His lips curved, but it wasn't his usual charming smile. This was sharper. Hungrier. He pulled his hips back slowly—agonizingly slowly—until just the thick head of his cock remained inside me, my body clenching around him, trying desperately to pull him back. I could feel every ridge and vein dragging against my sensitive walls, could feel the hollow emptiness where he'd been.
Then he slammed home. I screamed—actually screamed—my back arching off the bed, my fingers clawing at nothing because he still had my wrists pinned. The force of his thrust punched the air from my lungs, drove him so deep I swore I could feel him in my throat. Pleasure and pressure exploded up my spine, white-hot and devastating.
"There she is," he growled, pulling back and slamming in again, setting a brutal rhythm that had the headboard cracking against the wall with every thrust. "My mouthy little omega. So much sass when you're on top. So many clever words." Another thrust, harder than the last, and I wailed beneath him. "But now look at you. Can't even remember how to talk, can you?"
He was right. I couldn't form words—couldn't form thoughts—could only take what he was giving me, my body jolting with every punishing thrust, sounds being fucked out of me that I'd never made before. Broken moans and desperate whimpers and high, keening cries that didn't sound human.
"Answer me." He shifted his angle, hiking my leg up over his hip with his free hand, and the new position made him hit something inside me that turned my vision to static. "Can you remember how to talk?"
"N-no—" The word came out stuttered, wrecked, barely recognizable as language, my head shaking against the pillow. "Remy—please—" My voice cracked on his name, my nails raking down his back.
"Please what?" He released my wrists to brace both hands on either side of my head, caging me in, his hips never stopping that relentless, punishing rhythm. His face was inches from mine, his amber eyes boring into me, his breath coming hard and fast. Sweat gleamed on his forehead, his chest, the muscles in his arms straining as he held himself up. "You wanted to run that pretty mouth. Now use it. Tell me what you need."
"I don't—I can't—" I was babbling, my hands finally free but useless, scrabbling at his shoulders, his back, leaving scratches I could feel tearing into his skin. My legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass, trying to pull him deeper even though there was nowhere deeper to go. "More—please—I need more?—"
