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“I’d never hurt you for something so trivial as jealousy. The misery of Agatha shooting that poison into you and having to watch you die before my eyes was too much risk for me. Believe me, I didn’t want to kill him.”

“I believe you. It’s not who you are. How many times do we have to revisit this?”

“Until I no longer feel like a monster.”

I lift my hand, tracing my finger down his hairline and along his temple, over the jagged scar there. “You’re not a monster to me.”

He presses his lips to mine again, then makes his way to my jaw, my neck. Down to my collarbone. To my chest, where he tugs at the edges of my shirt, shifting it cockeyed, to expose my breast entirely. Hunger darkens his expression when he looks up at me, as if to ask for permission. At my nod, he circles my nipple with his tongue, the sight so painfully erotic, I tip my head back, crying out. He makes a point to massage my other nipple through the fabric, and I run my fingers over his head, squeezing with every pull at my womb, when his teeth slide across the sensitive flesh. Lower still, he makes his way down my stomach, until he reaches the apex of my thighs.

With his fingers tucked into the band of my shorts, he tugs the garment down to mid-thigh, his eyes alight and shimmering with unspoken appreciation.

The second he bends forward, his intentions are clear, and I reach down to pull my shorts back up.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I’m …. I’m nervous. I’ve never done that before.”

The corner of his lips kicks up as if this pleases him, and with a rough yank, he draws me closer. “Then, I’m going to take my time and enjoy this even more.” Batting my hand away, he tugs the shorts to my knees, and I reach for them again.

“Titus. Are you … putting your mouth there?”

“My mouth. My tongue. My fingers. Yes.”

Jesus, that sounds like a lot of action for one spot.

“But I’m not--”

“You’re perfect. Please.” He lifts my hand away, setting it beside me, and I curl my fingers into the soft sand beneath me. “I need to taste you. I’m starving for you right now.”

Panic bubbling in my stomach, I lie back onto the ground. The canopy of leaves above me sways in the afternoon breeze, and I wonder if God can see through. If He’s staring down at me now.

Warm lips press against my swollen flesh, and I let out a gasp as an unseen force tugs at me, arching my back. I exhale a moan and tip my head forward to see the top of Titus’s, buried between my thighs, his fingers digging into each leg, releasing the same pleasured moan I’ve heard whenever he’s eaten a hearty meal at the end of the day. With one long lick of his tongue up my seam, I thrust my hips forward, and he captures me, yanking me closer still as he tears away my shorts, tossing them aside, and flicks his tongue across my clit.

“Oh, God!” Sand scrapes across the tips of my fingernails when I drag them over the dirt at either side of me, desperate to hang onto something.

I’ve never felt a sensation so incredibly pleasurable in all my life.

I slam my head against the sand, eyes rolling back, breath caught in my throat, while Titus makes a feast of me. Lips pulling at my clit, he sucks my flesh, practically slurping my arousal, and makes a growling sound in his throat while he savagely eats me.

I squirm and writhe beneath his attentive mouth, silently praying that it never ends. What sounds like a cross between a moan and a sob escapes me, it feels so good I could cry.

Pressure at my entrance has me biting my lip, as he dips his finger up inside of me, pumping in and out, then gathers the fluids he’s already worked up. He pauses to suck them from his skin before plunging them up my all-too-eager hole once more. “You taste so fucking good,” he rasps, and sucks at my already-swollen seam. His words stir excitement that shoots to the very spot where he’s lapping with the devotion of a holy man. The air of praise in his voice has me feeling like a puppy eager to please him, and when I brush my finger over my nipple, the flicker of fascination and desire burning in his eyes sends a flutter to my stomach.

“Titus, oh, my … Titus.”

My Titus. Yes, he’s mine. My Alpha. My male.

Out here, where the world is harsh and we’re forced to survive alone together, where everyone is scratching for one small fraction of what’s left, I’m selfish enough to claim all of him.

I spread my legs farther and give tiny thrusts toward his unforgiving tongue. My stomach pulls and twists into tight knots, while my muscles tremble with the tension drawn by his lips. I moan and stare up at the trees that rattle and shake in celebration, while the knots tighten. Tighter. Tighter. So tight!

My hips thrust faster in the motions of sex, while he fingers me and tongues my clit at the same time. Possessed by the demons he seeks to exorcise with his mouth.

The sun blazes as a golden circle of light through the tree, and I close my eyes to a flash behind my lids. Tingles vibrate across my skin, down to my toes that I dig into his back. I cry out. The sound of sheer ecstasy echoes all around me.

“Titus!” Pulses of pleasure throb in my womb, my thighs shaking like fragile branches, while the last of my climax explodes through me. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. I want to lie here and bask in the warm and cozy feeling, but I also want to knock him to the ground and return the favor.

Sitting back on his heels, Titus looks like a God, his mouth shining with my release, his hair in disarray from my fingers.