Page 232 of Blood Curse

I caught her mouth again and lifted her onto the counter.

The small kitchen made every movement intimate. Her knees opened around my hips. I undid her jeans, slid them down her legs with her knickers and left both on the floor.

Bryony leaned back on her hands. Her breasts rose with each breath. Her pussy was already wet, flushed and open in front of me.

I drew my thumb through her slickness and over her clit.

“Fuck.”

Her hips followed the next stroke. I watched her face as I circled slowly, keeping the pressure steady until her thighs tightened around me.

Then I lowered my mouth to her.

She tasted hot and clean. I licked from her entrance to her clit, held her thighs and took my time. There was nothing to outrun. Pleasure built under my tongue while rain tapped the kitchen window and the radiator knocked in the next room.

Bryony’s fingers twisted in my hair. She moved against my mouth, and I followed each shift without asking her to put it into words.

I pushed two fingers inside her.

Her pussy closed around them. I curled them as my tongue worked her clit, and the first hard tremor moved through her body.

“Stellan.”

She came with my name breaking in her throat. I kept my mouth on her until the last pulse eased around my fingers.

When I straightened, she pulled me between her thighs and kissed me. She tasted herself on my mouth. Her hand opened my trousers, wrapped around my cock and stroked once from base to tip.

Control thinned.

I lifted her from the counter.

“Bedroom,” she said against my mouth.

It was the only direction either of us needed.

I carried her through the living room while she pushed my shirt from my shoulders. The bedroom door stood open. A lamp glowed beside a bed made with dark green covers, and two empty drawers waited in the chest against the wall.

I noticed them even with Bryony naked in my arms.

“Two,” I said.

She laughed against my neck. “Focus.”

One drawer was shallow and the other deep enough for several shirts. Neither would hold the life I left behind at Harrowmere. They weren’t supposed to. They were space Bryony chose to make for whatever I brought next.

I laid her on the bed and stripped off the rest of my clothes.

Her gaze moved down my body. She reached for me as I covered her, one hand closing around my cock and guiding it between her legs.

The head slid through her wetness. I pressed into her slowly, feeling her open around me until my hips met hers.

Bryony’s legs closed around my waist.

I drew back and thrust again.

Her nails bit into my shoulders. I set a deep, unhurried rhythm, watching pleasure move across her face. The bed was lower and softer than mine at Harrowmere. It shifted under every stroke.

On the next thrust, the headboard tapped the wall.