Page 55 of Israel

He winced as another bone cracked, and kissed her sweat-soaked temple.

“Sure,” he said. “In between scrounging for food and picking pockets I spent all my time at the museums, with the lah-di-dah art patrons. That, or the opera.”

“Fine, play the homeless card,” she said. Two more bones snapped, and she gasped in pain. He loosened his hold, kissing the back of her shoulder. Her breathing eased a little.

“What good is a deprived childhood if you can’t get sympathy for it?” he asked. He rubbed her skin lightly. It seemed to be warming up.

“We should go to a real art museum sometime,” she said. “One that doesn’t have jackalopes. We could hit up one of those fancy receptions when they open a new exhibit, with tuxedos and spangly dresses and watered-down cocktails and stuffy rich people. I bet I could get us into one. I’m kinda famous.”

“Oh, fine. Play the famous card,” he mimicked her. “Be sure to make it one of those modern art exhibits, where all the paintings are different shades of white and have a deep existential meaning.”

Her skin had stopped rippling alarmingly, and her breathing had evened out. “Existential,” she murmured. “That’s a big word for an uneducated Enforcer.”

“Mmm,” he said, rubbing his hand up and down the soft skin of her upper arm, trying to keep her soothed. “Four whole syllables. I can spell it, too. Next thing you know I’ll be doing math.”

She gave a soft giggle. “Don’t go crazy on me now. What will I have to feel superior about then?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “You still have that killer roundhouse kick, bunny.”

“Not a bunny,” she murmured.

“Bunny,” he said, with another kiss on her shoulder. “Soft and warm and cuddly.”

She went still in his arms. Suddenly he was aware of the scent of her, surrounding him, filling his head with the smell of her skin and the strawberry-vanilla fragrance of her hair. Her soft, full breasts pressed against his arm where it encircled her shoulders, and her ass was cradled in the crook of his thighs, snuggled up to his dick. His other arm was wrapped around her small waist.

She pressed back against him, and he went hard in an instant.

She turned in his arms, snaking an arm around his neck and slipping one soft, biteable thigh between his, putting even more pressure on his swollen cock. “Ash—” he said.

What if sex drove her animal wild?

His words were stopped by her lips on his, taking his breath right out of his lungs. The taste of her was so intoxicating, like a double shot of whiskey right to his head. He tightened his grasp around her, pulling her close.

Kissing her was like diving into a deep, refreshing mountain lake. Exhilaration rushed through him, and he deepened the kiss. He moved his lips over hers, tasting, touching, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth and sucking gently.

She moaned, moving her hips against him, her tongue meeting his in a complex dance that sent shivers up and down his body.

He couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to touch every part of her, taste every part, make every inch of her his.

He shifted position with his hips, so that his hot cock pressed up between her legs, rolling against her pussy. He could smell her arousal all around him now, and it was making him crazy. She was so beautiful, so warm and soft and wild.

He moved his lips down the side of her throat, tasting the warm folds of her neck. She tipped her head back, giving him access to the silky-soft skin under her ear, the dips and hollows above her collarbone.

Ashley slid her hands under his shirt, and the feel of her palms on the bare skin of his back made him moan into her skin. He slid the hem of her shirt up and cupped her breast, bringing his mouth down to the hard nub of her nipple, circling it with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth and sucking, kneading the soft skin and grazing the nipple lightly with his teeth before licking it once more with his tongue.

Ashley’s breath was coming faster, her hands roaming down to cup his ass, pulling him against her and rubbing her pussy against his hard length.

“I can do better than that,” he murmured in her ear. He eased away and slid his hand under the elastic waist of her sleep pants. Holy hell, she wasn’t wearing panties. His fingers slid straight down into her hot wet folds.

Israel slid his finger between her legs, stroking her clit, rubbing her juices over it, making it slicker and wetter. She pressed against his hand. “Oh, God, yes,” she said.

He stroked slowly, rhythmically, down to her entrance and back up to her clit, circling it before moving down to her entrance once more. She found the zipper of his jeans and slid it down, reaching in to pull his cock free.

“Aaah.” Her hand on him was almost enough to drive him over the edge. She shifted her hips and guided him into her, hooking one leg over his and easing him inside.

His lips found her mouth once more, and he kissed her again, his tongue moving with hers in rhythm with his slow thrusts.

He kept his thumb on her clit, teasing it, feeling the build of tension between their bodies, the way her thighs clenched and her breath became labored.

She made a deep sound of arousal in her throat and pressed against him, pulling him deep within her. He moaned against her mouth, all the tension of the last few days driving for release. Their rhythm quickened until his orgasm roared down on him like a freight train, and his entire lower body clenched and pulsed in waves of pleasure. Ashley’s own orgasm rippled through her, and they clutched each other, desperate for the closeness they’d been missing.