Page 143 of What We Burn

I part my lips.

He presses two fingers onto my tongue. Copper. Salt. Me.

His eyes go black as I suck them clean. “Fuck, wildcat.”

I bite down lightly, and his hips slam forward. The headboard cracks into the wall and I laugh around Holden’s fingers. Then he pulls them from my mouth and closes his hand around my throat.

“You like that?”

“I love this,” I gasp, his thumb pressing against my pulse. “Love it when you show me this side of you.”

He fucks me harder.

The room fills with the slap of skin and every sound I’m no longer trying to hold back. Blood slicks the place where our bodies meet. It smears over his thighs and mine, ruining the sheets and coating the base of his cock.

Holden looks down.

His rhythm stutters.

I catch his jaw and drag his face back to mine.

“Does that get you off?”

“You know it does.”

“How much?”

His grip tightens fractionally. “Ride me and find out.”

He rolls us before I can answer, and I land above him, hands braced against his chest. His cock is still buried deep, blood marking his stomach where our bodies pressed together.

Holden puts both hands behind his head.

“Cover me.”

The command drops straight through me and lands low. I lift myself up on shaking thighs, then sink back down onto him in one slow, slick glide. The sharp inhale that tears from his throat is the only warning before his hands clamp onto my hips, his control shattering.

“Fuck, yes,” he groans, guiding my movement, pulling me down harder each time. I ride him until blood smears between us. His chest rises and falls beneath my palms, his eyes fixed on the mess coating my skin.

I drag my fingers through it and paint a red line over his chest.

His cock jerks inside me.

“Oh,” I breathe. “You really like that.”

He catches my wrist and brings my hand to his mouth. His tongue sweeps over my palm.

Then he drags me down and kisses me.

I taste blood on his tongue. Mine from his mouth, his lip where I bite it, all of it mixed together as his hands take control of my hips.

He drives up into me.

Once.

Twice.

The third stroke catches exactly right.