Page 40 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

Strung and spun.

Catherine’s hands weaved into his hair as he fucked her with his fingers and mouth. Each stroke made her louder, and every thrust made her shaking increase. Cross loved the way she pushed her cunt harder into his mouth with every flick of his tongue.

Without warning, he pulled away from her sex, grabbed her hips, and fell back on the chaise. Catherine came with him. She straddled his face with a sexy little grin.

“Fucking eat me, Cross.”

“Then get down here, babe.”

He yanked her panties to the side again, and she sat on his face. His mouth covered her sex, his tongue sinking into her wet pussy, and lapping up all of her tart arousal. He got two handfuls of her ass, and dug his fingers in roughly just to keep her in place. She wasn’t fucking moving until he was done. Just as fast, he was back up to her clit, driving his tongue into the throbbing little nub with relentless intent. Her legs tightened around his head and shoulders while her thighs rocked with tremors.

“Jesus Christ,” Catherine mumbled above him. “You better fucking make me come, Cross.”

Her sweet little cries came higher and airless. He felt her orgasm race through her cunt first, and he sucked hard on her clit as she shouted his name. Her head tossed back, and her shoulders quaked.

Cross kissed the seam of her sex and winked up at her. “You still look damn good when you come, babe.”

Catherine dragged shaky fingers through her hair. “Only with you.”

He was going to question her on that, but stopped himself just in time. No talking. Only fucking. He wasn’t about to send her running because he had questions.

Cross’s hands slid up from Catherine’s ass to her back. He held tight to keep her steady as he lifted off the chaise and flipped then over. She was on her back, then, and looking up at him.

“This is a shame,” he said quietly.

Catherine watched him under lowered lashes. “What is?”

“I got a taste of your cunt before your mouth, and it’s a shame.”

“Fix it, then.”

“Gladly.”

Cross closed the small distance between them, and caught her soft lips with his own. His tongue still tasted of her sex, and she groaned into his kiss. It was such a familiar dance for them, he found. After all that time, kissing her was still as natural as breathing, and he couldn’t fucking get enough. He moved to kiss her jaw, and then her quivering chin. Her chest heaved with deep breaths when his hands slid the straps of her bra down, and freed her tits from the lacey cups.

Catherine’s pink nipples peaked under the strokes of his thumbs. The three-day stubble on his cheeks rubbed against soft, sweet-smelling skin when he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, and then bit down just hard enough to make her gasp.

“Fuck,” Catherine breathed, “you need to—”

“Fuck you?”

“Now.”

She was quick to help him out of his clothes, never once breaking their kiss unless she absolutely had to. Then, she tensed.

Cross saw her gaze dart to his shoulder, and then the tips of her fingers roved over the scar there. “This looks like it hurt.”

Her unspoken question was as clear as day. He had no intention of answering. At least not right then.

“It’s fine,” he promised.

Now.

“How did it happen?”

Cross sighed a little and pushed up to lean over her. “Somebody’s bullet.”

Catherine’s eyes widened, but her attention quickly went elsewhere. Her fingertips rolled over his skin again, although lower this time. Over his tattoo—the Italian script on his ribcage that held all his secrets.