Page 48 of Inflamed Touch


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“Nadia.”

“For years I wanted you to come back. It didn’t matter that all this pain existed, it didn’t matter you took off and abandoned me after ripping my life apart. I wanted you. Now here you are, and you’re a coward.”

She spins to leave, and I grab her arm, pulling her back around.

“You never could pause long enough to listen to the subtext, could you?” I ask.

“What subtext?”

“This.”

I thread my hand in her braid and haul her up against me, kissing her hard, deep, and thorough. Everything bursts into raging life, and I back her into the door of the room, hands everywhere. One of my thighs between hers, pushing up against the heat of her pussy, and I move my leg, hard and rough enough and at the right repetitive pace to make her grind down on me. To make her moan into my mouth as she rocks, rubbing that sweet cunt on me.

I’m fucking hard, and one of her hands slides up under my shirt as she kisses me with the ferocity of a wild animal.

I’m there for it. I’m a whirlwind of need, heat, and passion. I need to taste every inch of her, kiss, bite, and suck on her pulse points. I want to worship her tits and eat the fuck out of her pussy.

I break the kiss and drop my mouth on her throat, suckling and kissing at her artery. Sliding a hand under her ass, I pick her up, and she wraps around me. Her little startled moan of appreciation is pure award-winning music as she feels the length and girth of my hard on.

“If you stop, I’ll kill you.”

I laugh, biting down on her neck as I carry her to the bed and tossing her down on it. I pull off her shoes then mine. “It’s why I find you hot. Your innate fuckin’ pacifism.”

“I find you hot when you talk less and strip more.”

Parting her legs, I crawl up between them, ripping off my shirt and tossing it. Then I come down over her, the tremors slipping through her pure eroticism. Pure heat.

Slowly, I kiss my way down her throat, slipping the buttons open on her pajama top. “You should wear silk and lace.”

“Then I’d never get anything done.” Nadia’s mouth finds mine as she undoes my jeans, dipping her hand in them to close about my swollen cock.

Holy fuck. I hiss out air as her palm is soft against me. Her thumb teasing the head, and I fucking swear this woman who could always work evil magic on me has grown even more dangerous because now she has confidence. Skills.

Our mouths keep coming together in sipping, teasing kisses, in hot, deep, ungodly kisses that hold an erotic worship at their centers.

I need to taste her everywhere. Stripping her naked, I shuck my jeans and boxer briefs. Her gaze is locked on my cock before moving up over my body, taking in the scars and the ink. She licks her lips like I’m the finest fucking meal she’s ever seen.

“Right back at you, Longstocking,” I mutter under my breath.

She’s absolutely gorgeous. Too skinny but nothing a good meal or three won’t fix. The jut of her hipbones is too harsh, but they draw my gaze to her pretty pussy, swollen and ready for me. Her clit showing, moisture clinging to her thighs. I run my finger along them, just shy of the prize, spreading her wetness a little farther down her upper inner thighs.

I push her legs apart so I can kneel between them, taking in the perfect handfuls of her tits with their dark nipples.

“Fuckin’ hell, Nadie. You’re better than I remember.”

“You’re not bad yourself,” she says. Once, she’d have blushed like crazy. Everything still crazy new for her, and she’d have tried to hide from my gaze.

Now, she lets me look, and her nipples bead tight like it turns her on.

She’s not eighteen anymore with that untouched body. That was hot, no getting past that. Young, virginal, and unsure.

This is hotter.

Nadia’s shy of thirty, a woman who’s comfortable in herself, a woman who’s lived. Don’t get me wrong, I want to fucking end every man who’s touched her, but fuck is she the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

Hotter than that girl.

I come down and kiss her. My mouth slipping over hers reverently, light and feathery, just the tease of tongue. I continue down, her little moans of protest music to my ears, and I suckle on one nipple and then the other.

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