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I grabbed her by the waist and tossed her onto the bed, enjoying the surprised little squeak that escaped her lips. She was bold and mouthy and endlessly obnoxious, but somehow also gorgeous and sweet and completely enchanting. She scrambled back a few inches, losing some of her bravado, and I took the opportunity to drink her in as I followed, crawling slowly across the mattress.
She was magnificent. The lines of her body were the perfect balance of curvy and muscular. A strong woman who clearly put in the work to keep herself that way. But even with all that natural beauty, my eyes were drawn to the artwork sprawling across her skin.
An intricate, ancient tree twisted its way up one leg, starting with the roots fanning out across the top of her foot. Its gnarled trunk hooked over her hip before it disappeared around her back. A matching branch peeked out over the opposite shoulder where it twisted and wound its way out to her wrist.
Her other leg was covered in a delicate series of black whorls and swirls interlaced with colorless flowers unlike any I’d ever seen. The artwork was nothing short of masterful, creating a markedly feminine pattern across her flesh, save for the middle of her thigh. The graceful blooms and swirls peeled away from the area, forced out by the intense stare of a black wolf with vivid green eyes. Eyes that looked all too real glaring out from their charcoal depths.
The effect was startling, a stark contrast between danger and beauty.
And now I had so many more questions about the woman who called herself Never. Not just why someone as stunning as her would choose to cover herself with art, but why she would choose those images.
She shifted on the mattress. “The staring thing was kind of hot for a minute, but you’re veering into creep territory now, pirate.”
When I looked back up at her face, she had her sarcastic mask in place, but I could still see the vulnerability she was trying to keep hidden.
“I’m not going to apologize,” I said, running my hands up her calves and the inside of her thighs before I shoved them roughly apart. “You are breathtaking.”
Her eyes narrowed like she didn’t believe me. Maybe she didn’t. For all her brash and bluster, maybe there was still a woman in there who wanted to be wanted. I could work with that.
I ignored her little squeal as I kissed my way up her inner thigh. When I reached her apex, the smell of her arousal made the muscles in my abdomen clench, and I couldn’t wait a second longer. Running my fingers along her lips, I gathered her silky wetness before I dipped my head down to taste her.
Heaven.
She tasted decadent. Irresistible. Another low growl escaped my throat before I could stop it.
She tried to scurry back, but I hooked my hands under her legs and pulled her to me. “Tell me to stop if you want me to stop, otherwise I’m going to keep dragging this hot little pussy of yours right back to my mouth.”
She stared at me wide-eyed, but when I lowered and licked again, her head fell back. The moan that followed was the stuff of dreams.
One of her hands tangled in my hair and the other fisted the bedding as I worked her with my mouth. Her flavor was a delicacy I wasn’t sure I could ever get enough of, and the little noises she made had my cock throbbing painfully despite my recent release.
I spread her wider, running a finger down her folds before pressing it inside her. She was soaked and swollen with arousal, and so deliciously tight. I slid a second in and set a brutally slow rhythm of licking and sucking at her clit as I worked my fingers, finding the sensitive spots inside her and stroking gently.
Her hips moved with me, matching the rhythm of my fingers.
“More,” she said on a desperate whisper. “I need more.”
I pulled away for a moment and her frustrated mewl was wonderfully satisfying. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from my head, guiding it to the bed. “Keep your hands there.”
She looked like she wanted to murder me but did as I said, crumpling the duvet in a death grip. I dipped my head again, keeping that same, maddening rhythm, until her hand fisted in my hair again and she tried to pull me closer. I shoved her hand away and gave her swollen pussy a single, flat smack.
“Fuck!” Her cry was shocked and loud, and from the way she was squirming, she was right on the edge. Right where I wanted her.
“Hands on the bed, Never.”
She kept her eyes squeezed shut and slapped her palms against the mattress before balling the crisp fabric in frustrated fists.
“Good girl,” I said in a low whisper, dipping my head. Another shudder ran through her, and I paused for a beat. Was she reacting to my praise or was it something else?
I ran my tongue along her wet heat, returning to that sensual rhythm that had her winding back up. It felt like only seconds passed before she was riding the line again. Her hand tangled in my hair for the third time, and I froze.
She dropped it back to the bed and shook her head wildly. “I didn’t—”
“Too late now.” I dragged my fingers out of her and gave her pussy a quick, firm smack.
Her hips bucked violently, and her thighs tried to snap together. She was so close.
Seeing her like that, spread across my bed and writhing for me, was a special kind of pleasure. Part of me wanted to draw it out, to bring her to the edge again and again before finally letting her come, but not tonight. She’d already given me far more trust than I deserved, than I had any right to even dream of, and edging her was a sure-fire way to lose it.
