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And the words…
The words inside my mind. They’re racing around, pulsing in bright red.
I love you, Skye.
I love you, Skye.
I love you, Skye.
The raw and pure emotion is like a coil that springs through me, violating me in a frightening yet delicious way.
I rip my mouth from hers and gasp in a breath. Then I clamp my lips onto the top of one of her breasts and—
I bite her.
I bite her hard. Fucking hard.
She cries out at the pleasure-pain.
“Marking you.” I pant against her flesh. “You’re mine.”
Her hand trails to her bare neck. “The collar…”
Yes, the collar. She thinks that will mark her.
But she’s wrong. It’s not substantial enough. It’s merely a symbol—a token showing others she’s spoken for. But it’s not a mark. Not a branding.
“Not enough,” I rasp out. “Not enough to make you mine.” I lift her then, right over my shoulder as if she’s a sack of potatoes. I nearly throw her on the bed. “The feelings I have for you are strong. So strong.”
“I have strong feelings for you too, Braden.”
I shake my head, thread my fingers through my disheveled hair. “No. You don’t understand. They’re…disturbing.”
“Braden…”
“No! Don’t talk. Don’t tell me what I’m feeling is normal, that it’s okay. Fuck!”
Then a sound comes from my throat. It’s not a groan or a growl. No. It’s more like… More like…
A roar.
I pick up one of the parfait glasses filled with chocolate mousse. “I’ll take you to New York, Skye. I’ll take you back to the club, because the truth is, I want it, too. I want it more than you can possibly imagine. The timing sucks. I’ll have to rearrange some things. But I’ll do it. I’ll do it because I’ll do fucking anything to make sure you never cry like that again.”
“I can’t promise that—”
“Quiet! I told you not to talk!”
She presses her lips together.
I stick one finger into the chocolate and then hold it to her lips. “Taste.”
She licks the mousse from me.
Then I kiss her—an open-mouthed kiss where I swirl my tongue over her teeth and gums and then release her.
“Delicious,” I say. “Rich, creamy, dark. But not nearly as delicious as you are.” My body throbs. “I’m going to paint you with mousse and then lick it off you.”
“The bedding. It will—”
“No talking! Do you think I care about the bedding? It can be cleaned. It can be replaced. Right now, I need you, Skye. I want to eat your chocolate mousse off your beautiful body, and I mean to do it.”
She lies flat and closes her eyes.
“Oh no,” I say. “You keep your eyes open. You’re going to watch everything I do to you.” I scoop out more mousse with my fingers and paint it over each of her hard nipples. I hover over her, my lips close to her nipple. She arches her back, bringing her chocolate-covered nipple closer to my mouth.
Still, I tease her, knowing it makes her want me even more.
And it makes me want her even more.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” I say. “Love your tits.” Finally, I lick the mousse off one nipple.
“Oh God…”
“No talking,” I growl against her flesh.
She strains forward, undulating her hips, trying to reach my tongue again.
I nibble on the other nipple, licking away the chocolate and then sucking her nipple between my lips. She moans, and my dick is ready to burst.
My whole body is blazing, aching, yearning for more, more, more…
I scoop out more dessert, this time onto her abdomen, and then I lick it off. Her wet pussy beckons, and as much as I want to continue the tease, I relent and give in.
I cover her pussy in mousse, the heat of her body melting it onto the covers. A huge mess, but who cares? I can afford to buy new covers every day for the next millennium.
“I can’t imagine anything making you taste better than you already do, but let’s see.”
I dive in, sucking the chocolate off her, pulling at her folds with my lips and teeth, shoving my tongue deep inside her. Then licking down farther still, where the mousse has trickled over her asshole.
Fuck, that sweet little asshole.
She shivers.
“No,” I say against her flesh. “We’ll save that for New York.”
I eat her, swirling my tongue around her clit and then shoving it inside her heat.
I plunder her, devour her. She reaches upward to grasp the rungs of the headboard.
Even unbound, she wants to be bound. Wants to be laid out for my pleasure.
Her control is an illusion. It always has been. I knew it from the start.
“God, delicious,” I murmur against her flesh. “I could eat you forever.”
Her fists clench around the wood, and when I nip her clit, she lets go and flies into a climax.
Without my permission.
And I’m okay with that.
I want what she wants.
I want to ease the ache inside her.
