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Cedra
A sense of rightness settled over me as Twyla tiptoed towards me to press a kiss to the underside of my chin. I knew she would’ve gone for the base of my throat if my shirt hadn’t been buttoned to the very top. I savored the moment with a sigh, eyes closing to relish the feel of her against me.
Too soon, she pulled away. But her eyes now glinted with mischief.
She grasped my hand and began tugging me towards the house, looking back at me with an impish smile when I refused to move.
And in that moment, the yearning began in the pit of my stomach. A craving so deep it took my breath away. I wanted to claim her as my Mate, and the urgency of it was almost cruel.
She squealed when I pulled her back against me and lifted her into my arms. Her mind was awash with pleasure, and it seeped into me like a trickling waterfall.
“I love it when you carry me,” she murmured, hooking her arms around my neck.
“I know.”
She kissed me, pressing her lips against mine in a soft caress. Her eyes were closed; her heartbeat a staccato.
Her eyes opened in surprise when her back hit the soft embrace of the bed. I knew she hadn’t even noticed I’d carried her through the house. That was what I loved about her: her single-minded focus on things she was passionate about. I still couldn’t believe I was one of those things.
She didn’t let me leave her, hooking her ankles around my waist to keep me between her thighs.
Her hum of pleasure was almost indecent.
“I had a really lovely evening, Cedra Holloway,” she murmured, nuzzling my lips. “But you know what would make it better?”
I think I made a questioning sound at the back of my throat. Her thighs squeezed tighter around me.
“I think I’d like to end the night by seeing if I can make you squirt all over me again.”
She really knew what to say to set my body on fire.
I brushed my lips against hers. “And here I was, thinking that you’d like my fingers in your pussy and my fangs deep in your neck.”
I watched her pupils dilate with a little hitch of her breath.
She nodded, almost knocking our foreheads together. “Yes, please.”
Breathless. Good. I liked her that way.
I slid a hand under her ass and tilted her hips upwards. A little gasp escaped her lips as her ruched dress rode up, exposing the tiniest pair of white panties. I knew it wasn’t just my imagination—each time she designed new underwear, they got smaller and smaller. It was like she knew that each missing inch of fabric had the ability to exorcise more of my brain cells.
My fingers climbed over the exposed skin of her thighs and she shivered against me.
Fingers always feel so good.
In response, I dug the digits into her soft skin, dragging them up her thigh, watching her lips part.
Her reactions hit multiple chords in me. She was so wonderfully open, so beautifully responsive, that I wanted to try to please her with everything I had. If only she knew how my soul hungered for each hiccup, each gasp, each little breath of “Cedra, please.”
The power this woman had over me would be terrifying if I didn’t know for certain that she returned my feelings. Her mental voice in my head was truly without artifice—she had no filters. And the dirty things she whispered unintentionally drove me wild.
Mark me.
Her mental voice was a whine.
Please.
Her eyes were open and staring right at me. I reached up to brush curls off her face and she tilted her head to kiss my palm.
