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I loved how free she looked underneath me, how she rose, trying to grind more of herself into me. Sudden flashbacks of a hazy night came back to me. Snapshots that, when pieced together, made no sense despite months of trying to put them into order.
“More, I need more,” she gasped, one hand landing on my head as she scraped her nails roughly against my scalp, desperate to cling to something. She pressed me further down her body in a frenzy I couldn’t stop.
The smirk on my face was permanent as I glanced at her. “Do you want my mouth, or do you want my cock?”
She gasped as her eyes fluttered open and peered at me. Lazily, I kissed across her chest to her belly button, circling it slowly with my tongue before dragging it over to the rose tattoo lining her side. It was slightly stretched out by her growing belly but still sexy as hell.
“Tell me what you want, baby. I told you I’d take care of you. Say the word, and I’ll give you anything.”
She bit her lip again and then whispered, “Your mouth.”
My smirk grew as I traced my tongue along the lower swell of her growing belly and pulled away right before I touched her.
“I need you to demand what you want from me, Skye. I want you to give me your command. I’m your slave, so tell me what you want me to do.”
Our gazes held, and her chest rose and fell sharply. Finally, she found her voice. “I want you to fuck me with your tongue as you play with my clit and make me cream all over your face like you’re taking a shower. I want you to soak yourself in my scent so every bitch you ever come in contact with knows you’re mine.”
A ferocious grin spread across my face. She was a very dirty girl when given the opportunity, and fuck if that didn’t make me love her more. I loved the idea of walking around smelling like her. More than anything, I wanted to walk up to Roman and let him smell her on me too. Then he’d know he’d massively fucked up in letting her go.
There was still a niggling memory at the back of my mind, so close I could almost touch it, yet still out of reach. Something about all of this was familiar—something about her. I assumed it was because it felt like I’d always known her when I was with her.
Maybe there was more to it than soulmate familiarity. Maybe she was the one I’d been trying to remember all this time.
“Fuck me, Cash, please.”
“As you wish, sweetness.”
EIGHT
SKYE
His finger teased the lacy strings of my thong like they were a part of his guitar. He played them right to my ankles before pulling them free and bringing them to his nose, inhaling my scent.
“Fuck, your scent alone makes me wanna shoot my load.” He grinned at me, holding my gaze as he sucked the wetness from the damp triangle of fabric. His moan reverberated through me like we were bound together by an invisible string.
“You are something else, Skye Fowler, and you’re all mine.” He pressed his tongue between my folds, slowly gathering what he could of the dew already pooled there. Then his tongue found the warm channel that throbbed for him, probing it slowly with long, firm licks just like I’d asked.
A jolt rushed through my body as his thumb connected with my clit, rolling it slowly in time with his tongue. An animalistic moan escaped me as I writhed on his rug like a heathen.
If this was the sacrifice I needed to give to this God, he could have it. I longed for him to take it all as my hips rolled against his face, begging for more without words. He didn’t get the message, doing things on his terms.
A desperate moan escaped as I said his name but his languid licks made my body burn from the inside out. The pace he kept was meant to torment me, not bring me to the brink.
“More,” I begged. “I need more.”
“I’m sorry?” He lifted his face to stare at me. “More of what? Use your words, Skye. I like them filthy.”
Another flutter of nerves went through me, weaker than the first. I’d never dirty-talked my way through sex before, but there was something so naughty about it that only made me hotter. I wanted to give him everything filthy I could think of, but fears of inadequacy gripped me. He was experienced. I wasn’t an idiot. Would my inexperience, compared to his, show in my words?
I bit my lip again before finding my courage. “I want you to fuck me with your tongue and fingers, hard and fast. I need to come, so make me.”
“How badly?” he asked, the devilish glint in his eyes burning right into me.
“So fucking bad,” I whispered, desperately squeezing my legs together like I could urge his face deeper into my honey pot.
He laughed against my mound, sending shivers through my body as the first tingles of an orgasm tried to take root. But there was nothing to cling to, and like before, it dissipated, leaving me needier than ever.
His hand roamed my heavy belly before firmly holding it so I had less room to wriggle and arch. But then he acquiesced, probing me with his tongue as deep as he could. Next, he began fucking and stroking my clit as he sucked furiously. But I needed more than the softness of his tongue in my hole, however firm he made it.
