Page 67 of Pretty Savage: Defy

He puts his mouth to my core with a long lick up my center, parting me easily. My head falls back as pleasure streaks through my body, and I brace my hands on the folded piano key cover. Carrson devours me like a man starved, his mouth rough and hungry between my thighs until I’m trembling so hard the piano answers every movement. He focuses where I’m most sensitive, dragging his tongue over me, sucking until my hips jerk, grazing just enough to make pleasure spark dangerously close to pain.

The piano and I cry out at the same time, both sounds loud and unrestrained.

I slide my hands into his hair and hold there as he works me. A desperate whine escapes me when he pulls away.

Carrson rises, and I look back to see his mouth wet, his eyes black with need.

“Turn,” he says, helping me stand and turn around with sure hands until my back is to him. He places one hand between my shoulder blades, guiding me forward until my chest meets the piano. The keys press into my breasts and my nipples drag over the ivory, sensitive enough to make me shudder.

Carrson’s hand moves over my backside.

He slaps me.

Lightly.

The surprise of it makes me jolt.

Carrson stops immediately. “Was that okay?”

“Yes,” I mumble, as warmth moves from where his hand struck to my core and out through the rest of my body.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs. “Someday I’m going to take you back here.” He strokes his fingers between my cheeks, and I shiver.

His palm comes down again, harder this time, and a hot rush sparks through me, making my knees spread wider. Carrson’s hand stays there after, rubbing over the sting, possessive and soothing.

“But not today,” he continues. “Are you ready?”

I’m more than ready, aching so badly for him that my thighs are slick and my body has stopped pretending it can be patient.

“Show me,” Carrson says from behind me.

“What?” I twist my head so I can see him.

“Show me how ready you are,” he commands. “Put your fingers inside yourself and feel how wet you are, how badly you want me.”

Widening my legs, I lower one hand and brush my fingers over my clit, then farther, pushing two fingers inside myself while Carrson watches from behind.

The sound I make is shameless.

His hand grips my hip. “Fuck.”

I move my fingers once, twice, feeling myself the way he must feel me. Wet and swollen and clenching. My body desperate even for my own hand because he asked this of me.

“This is how I feel to you?” I ask, breathless.

Carrson leans over me, his chest brushing my back. His mouth comes to my ear. “Better.” He catches my wrist and draws my hand away, then brings my fingers to my mouth. “Taste how sweet you are for me, tiger.”

My lips part.

I obey, sucking my fingers into my mouth and swirling my tongue over them.

His cock drags along my seam at the same time, and I moan around my fingers, my ass pushing back against him.

“See?” he says. “That’s how you taste. Fucking divine.”

Carrson grabs my hair and tugs it back, not too hard but enough to stretch out my neck and tilt my chin up. “You’re mine, Laurel. No matter what your last name is, no matter who sees you, no matter what The Order says or does.”

The words should scare me. Maybe from anyone else, they would, but Carrson’s mine doesn’t feel like The Order’s. It doesn’t feel like a chain or a claim. It feels like a vow made with his hands trembling against my skin.