Page 142 of Court of Claws


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I squirmed a little closer against him, pressing my hips against his firm buttocks. He groaned.

“Morgan...”

“What?”

“If I turn over, you’d better not scream,” he warned. “I’m turning over now.”

I didn’t think he’d realized yet just what he’d be turning overto.

“All right,” I said innocently. “You do what you need to do.”

He moved onto his back, then flipped onto his other side to face me.

I didn’t move away.

I heard his quick indrawn gasp of breath.

“Fuck me.”

“I’m trying to.”

“You’re fucking... Morgan, where the hell are your clothes?”

“I seem to have misplaced them.”

“You misplaced them?” He swore. “I’ll kill Breena.”

“That’s not very nice. I’m sure there are clothes somewhere. Just not here. On me.”

I wiggled my body against him, pressing my breasts flat against his hard chest. I couldn’t help it. I let out a little moan. He felt so good.

And down below? Fuck, he was so hard already. I could feel him, bulging against me. I arched my hips a little, trying to increase the contact.

His hand shot out, grasping the swell of my waist.

“Yes, please,” I gasped.

“What is this?” His voice was rough and demanding. Perfect. That was exactly how I wanted him tonight.

“This is what I want. If you want it, too, then I don’t see a problem. Isn’t this what we’re supposed to be doing after all?”

“Stop playing around,” he snarled. I could hear the tension in his voice. “This isn’t part of the game.”

“Isn’t it?” My tone became more serious. “I think it is, Draven. You’re the one who put us in this position after all... I mean, not this position precisely, but the one where we have to pretend we’re fucking.”

He groaned.

“What?”

“Don’t say that word in that way.”

“What?” I said innocently. “Fucking?”

“That’s the one.” His breathing was ragged. “Fuck.”

“So you can say it but I can’t?”

“Does it make you want to fuck me when I say it?”

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