She bites my jaw, then my neck, then my shoulder, and I bite back just as her climax hits. Her whole body bows, her thighs crush me, and she screams into my shoulder. The sound breaks me, and I follow hard, burying myself deep as my vision whites out.
I don’t give her time to breathe.
The second her knees hit the hardwood, I snap loose. I drag my thumb across her lower lip, feeling the tremble there. She looks up at me through her lashes, pupils blown wide, chest rising fast.
“Open,” I murmur.
She obeys instantly.
It kills me.
I curl my fingers in her hair, not gentle, not apologetic, and guide her exactly where I want her. Her hands slide up my thighs, bracing herself. She looks devoted. Ruined. Mine.
“Look at me,” I growl.
Her eyes snap up. So obedient it hurts.
“Good girl.”
Her throat works. Heat coils low in my spine, brutal and sudden.
I move my hips, testing her, watching her lips part wider around me. Watching her adjust, accept, offer more. I can feel the soft sounds she makes vibrate through me, rattling every last piece of control I pretend to have.
I tighten my grip in her hair, guiding her deeper, watching her take it.
Watching her want it.
Her fingers claw lightly at my hips, not in protest, just overwhelmed, trying to calm herself while I use her mouth the way I’ve always wanted.
“Faith…” My voice fractures. “Fuck… you’re perfect.”
She whimpers at the praise, and I roar primally. I lose the last thread of restraint. My movements get rougher, needier, my breath coming ragged. She holds onto my legs, letting me set the pace, letting me take whatever I need.
I feel the moment I start to lose it. My spine going tight, vision going hot, body locking down like a loaded gun.
I yank her back just enough to see her mouth, her dazed hunger, the string of want connecting us. She’s wrecked. Beautiful. Kneeling for me with her swollen lips open.
“Don’t move,” I manage to grit out. “Stay right there.”
She does. Trembling. Expectant. Proud of what she’s reduced me to.
I bury my hand in her hair again, pulling just enough to angle her face up toward me. My breath shudders out of me as the tension snaps, pleasure ripping through me so hard my knees almost give.
I break apart, violently, helplessly, coming undone right over her, painting her skin, her mouth, her throat. Marking her. Claiming her in a way no one could mistake.
She closes her eyes at the first hot streak hitting her cheek, lips parting in a soft sound that goes straight to my bloodstream. Her tongue slips out to catch what she can, slow and needy, and I swear I almost collapse.
When the last tremor shudders through me, I release her hair and cradle the back of her head instead, thumb stroking behind her ear in a rare moment of softness.
She looks up at me. Wrecked, shining, proud of herself, with my need drying warm on her skin.
“Dallas…” she whispers, breathless.
And I want to drag her up and ruin her all over again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Faith
