Page 47 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

He crushed his mouth against hers, eager to swallow every sound. His free hand slipped beneath her top and found her bare breast. The feel of her nipple against his thumb, soft to the roughness of his finger, made him shiver. He gently pinched it and she jerked against him, so he did it again.

All while his tongue claimed her, memorizing the feel of her mouth.

Her hands clenched him tighter, fingers digging into his shoulders. A strangled cry built in her throat. He couldn’t decide what he wanted. Kiss her to orgasm, or watch her expression as she came apart for him? Both. Everything. All of it.

Which was when he realized this single orgasm would never be enough. He’d been stupid to think it might be.

Kiss her, he realized, mostly because he couldn’t pull his mouth away, couldn’t give up the taste of her. She tightened around his fingers, tighter and tighter, then jerked and cried out against his lips. He kissed harder, swallowing up the sound of his efforts, imagining it was his cock she was milking instead. Heated desperation seared him straight to his center, followed by a sense of success, and then…pride. Of all things.

He’d had many victories over the years, but damn, this one felt better than most.

Their heavy breathing punctuated the quiet. He pulled his lips away just enough, but kept his fingers buried. She was unusually tight around him, as if holding on, keeping him there. “This tight little pussy needed that. You needed that, didn’t you, sugar?” he managed.

She made a little sound.

“I wonder. Do you taste like sugar, too?”

Her mouth opened, then closed, brows knitting as a cute little crease formed between them. He’d seen it before, when he’d said something particularly shocking. He freed his fingers, loathe to do it, then lifted them to his lips.

Her scent from the arousal on his fingers perfumed the air beautifully, and he inhaled, just to savor it. It made his magic falter. His glamor slipped for the barest of moments as he lost control. He leashed himself tightly, then slipped his fingers, covered in her, into his mouth.

She sucked in a breath. The taste of her exploded across his tongue. Just enough to make him regret not using his mouth on her. Fucking poor decision making—that. He should have tasted her orgasm in full. “Just like sugar,” he growled, licking his fingers clean.

“Bastian!” she hissed.

His phone chimed, ringing in his pocket. He froze, then dropped his hand, letting a smirk cross his features. Then he stole a quick glance at the clock and said, “Well, sugar, that’s my cue. But first, you got that list I asked for?”

He stepped back, shedding his arousal, making his voice sound tame and professional. The facade was necessary. He needed to put some space between them.

She scoffed. “Seriously? You just⁠—”

“No time for complaints. I need the list. Where’s your phone? You can text it to me.” Her jaw clenched. Hazel eyes darted toward her room down the hall. “Well? Go and grab it.” He motioned with his head.

“You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, stalking away. There was no bite to her tone, but incredulity, perhaps.

He tutted, waiting until her back was turned to exhale, to relax. Tension eased from his shoulders. Just her mere presence wound him up tight. He adjusted his pants, willing his dick to relax, though that proved harder than he'd hoped. His gaze tracked the sway of her skirt, her cute ass as she disappeared into her room before reappearing a moment later. Fuck, she’d been so wet and soft for him. So ready⁠—

“Here. It’s in airplane mode.”

“No need for that. As long as we’re in here—” he motioned, indicating the house “—no one can track you. Keep it on in case I need to get ahold of you, or vice versa.”

So what? Maybe he was curious to see if she’d text him.

Taking her phone, he programmed it with his number, then sent himself a text. His phone binged. “There. You’ve got my number. Send me the list.”

She took her phone and clicked around. He took his out, looking over his notifications. Christian could wait. His phone binged again. He glanced at the text, quickly programming her number before scanning through the contents of the message.

“I shared it from my notes app,” she explained.

He frowned as he scrolled. “Avon’s Cup. Keeps the drinker awake. Berrick’s Belt. Makes the wearer invisible. Fatima’s Dagger⁠—”

“Yes, yes,” she snapped. “I don’t need you to read them to me. I know what I wrote.”

He glanced up at her, reading the irritation on her face.

He surged toward her, invading her space. Her breath hitched at the change in proximity. She rapidly backed up until her back was against the wall again. “Don’t worry, sugar,” he growled. “We’ll have some more fun another time.”

He silently cursed the moment those words came out. A lie. He absolutely did not intend to have any more interactions like this one. Couldn’t afford to. And yet, her expression, the annoyance there, drove him to make the promise.