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“Fuck, sunshine.”

He pulls my underwear down and tosses it over his shoulder.

Then he looks. Really looks. No embarrassment. No hurry. No pretending this is less intimate than it is.

His hand closes around one thigh and spreads me wider.

“You were right.”

“About what?”

“I didn’t know you were wet before.”

His finger slides through me, and my whole body jolts.

“Now I fucking do.”

“Oh my God.”

“Bitter works.”

“You’re an asshole.”

He circles my clit once, and my insult falls apart.

His grin is pure sin. “Wet pussy says you don’t mind.”

“You talk too much.”

“You like my mouth.”

“I liked it better when it was busy.”

His eyebrows lift.

Oh.

That was apparently the correct answer.

Bitter grabs both my thighs and pulls me to the edge of the bed. The rough movement sends a thrill through me.

“Bitter.”

“You wanted my mouth busy.”

Then he kneels between my legs, boots planted against the old wooden floor, cut stretching across his shoulders.

That image is going to ruin me permanently.

The Grave Prowlers enforcer on his knees between my pink shoes.

I barely have time to appreciate it before his mouth touches my pussy.

The first stroke of his tongue wipes every thought out of my head.

“Oh, fuck.”

His rough laugh vibrates against me. “Yeah. That’s what I wanted.”