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“I mean it.” Her voice was too breathless to be confident, and her ass cheeks flexed as if she were trying to control her body’s reaction.
“Nice try.”
I speared my tongue and plunged inside her. Her body relaxed as she opened up for me. I threw one of her legs over the back of the couch to give myself room.
There’s my girl.
I prodded and speared and fucked, trying to go deeper and deeper until my face was covered in her juices from my nose to my chin. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. I needed this, needed her.
I ran my tongue up her center all the way to her clit, then shoved two fingers in her tight little hole. Her hips rolled up as her body writhed, and she rode my fucking face. Hungry. Desperate. Needy.
So. Fucking. Perfect.
Slick sounds, wet and hot, filled the room. I wanted it louder. I wanted it wetter. Four years of waiting for this had created a monster, and now he wanted to be fed.
My fingers plunged deeper. Harder. Faster.
My tongue worked her clit. Then my teeth. Flicking and nipping. Kissing and sucking. All I tasted was her. All I breathed was her.
She arched her back and moaned. It almost sounded like she was in pain, but I knew better.
“Oh, God,” she cried. “Oh, fuck.” Her body quivered around me, and her hands gripped my hair so tightly my scalp burned. Her thighs gripped my head in a vise.
That’s it, baby. Come on my face.
I wanted her everywhere.
I wanted to breathe in and still smell her later. I wanted to lick my lips and still taste her on the long drive home. She was like a sickness in my blood that I never wanted to cure.
Tatum closed her eyes and threw her head back, letting the orgasm shake her body. God, she was beautiful like this—mouth open and panting, delicate throat exposed to me.
I pulled my black joggers down enough to release my dick.
She opened her eyes and lifted her head to see my fist wrapped around my cock, giving it hard, urgent strokes.
“You like that.” It wasn’t a question. I could tell she liked it by the look in her eye.
Stroke.
Her lips parted. I squeezed tighter.
Stroke.
“You’re looking at my dick like you want it in your mouth.” I grabbed the back of the couch for support and thrust myself into my hand. Fuck.
Stroke.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“Soon, Little Troublemaker. Very soon.” Then with a few final pumps, I came all over her stomach and sweet, sweet pussy. It was still swollen and red from me devouring it minutes ago. Now it was covered in ropes of milky white.
I slid my hand under her dress to her breast, leaving a trail of cum that had spilled onto my fist all over her skin. “He can’t give you this.”
She arched into my touch when I squeezed her tit, then pinched her nipple between my fingers.
“No one can.” I moved my hand over her stomach and down to her pussy, smearing my seed into her skin. Then I took my cum-coated finger and eased it inside her, not giving a single fuck about birth control, not anymore, not with her.
She lifted her hips to welcome me as a whimper left her lips. The mask she tried so hard to hold in place slipped when she was with me. The predator lurking beneath the surface licked his lips as he eyed his prey, so vulnerable yet so strong.
I pulled my finger out and wiped it on the front of my pants. “There. Now you smell like me.”And I smelled like her.
“You’re insane.” She pulled her dress down, covering up my masterpiece.
“Maybe.” I pulled my joggers back over my hips, tucking my dick inside. “But you’re just as fucked up as I am. You crave what I can give—whatonlyI can give.”
She was everything I needed, and I wasn’t giving up until I’d ruined her. Until I’d possessed her, body and soul. It wasn’t a question of whether or not Tatum was going to let me destroy her. She wanted the monster. She craved the beast. The question was, could she stop me.
