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His growl deepens when I come.
He locks my legs around his shoulders, pushing his mouth into me.
He can’t breathe a word, but I hear him loud and clear in every wave of thunder from his throat.
Come like you mean it, princess.
Come for me so damn hard you go to pieces.
Dear God, I do.
And he never stops licking as my body convulses again and again, riding a rainbow.
White like pearl.
Red like my galloping pulse.
Green—so green—like the spark in his eyes.
My body won’t stop convulsing, a slave to his mouth.
I ride his face as he pulls me against him harder.
His stubble, his teeth, his tongue steal my pleasure greedily.
Honest to God, I almost pass out.
When I remember to breathe and the aftershock fades, I look up. He’s standing over me at the foot of the bed, already working off his shirt one button at a time.
His glare invites me to watch.
My legs pinch together, hiding a new rush of wetness.
He shakes his head and gives me a stern look. “Keep them open, princess. We’re not even close to done. Not by fucking half.”
When he’s on the last button, something comes over me.
It’s almost ritualistic, watching Mr. Control Freak exposing the bad boy underneath in all his mad glory.
My hands tremble, but I force them to reach out, grab the sides of his shirt, and peel it back over his shoulders.
“Holy crap.” It spills out of me when I see his bare chest again, this inked canvas stretched over solid stone.
Until now, I’ve only been able to look and never touch.
The dragon curling around his trident seems infinitely more menacing now.
Hungrier than before.
And it glistens on his chest like it’s on the prowl as he shrugs his shirt to the floor.
“Go on. Touch me, Delia. You look like a kid on Christmas morning. Feel these abs. Maybe they’ll hint how hard I’m about to fuck you.”
“Chris...” Biting my lip, I let go and accept his invitation.
My spine becomes one long tingling chord.
My pussy throbs, aching to feel him deep inside me, to see if he’s as good as his word.
