Page 81 of Into Her Fantasies

The connection was a burst of right in my brain—and a bolt of wrong in my heart. Through my heart. Fate is cruel. The genius who coined that one must have also been like swami Tilda, possessing the ability to see through time and peg this moment as the perfect example. My soul had never expanded with such joy, only to be deluged by such grief. The mix turned me into a mute, confused mess—

As I clutched at the only person on the planet who could make it better.

The one person I should have been shoving away.

The man I kissed with fevered desperation…and open surrender.

Who moaned into me, his lips crushing me harder, his tongue invading me deeper.

Who growled even harder as I pulled back, and started licking my way down the rippled ladder of his abdomen.

Who tangled both his elegant hands into my hair, slicking the strands back to watch with dark lust, as I worked my tongue into the weeping slit atop his hard stalk.

“Va cock de Créacu,” he grated. Hitched his hips forward, so a little more of his flesh slid between my lips. A half inch of movement, awakening every nerve ending in my body…and shard of gratitude in my soul.

I needed to show it to him. In the most elemental, primal, perfect way I could imagine.

“Master…”

He growled low. “Yes, sweet one?”

“May I worship you with my mouth?”

“I expect nothing less, tupulai.”

He pushed his cock down my throat.

I took his essence into my soul.

I couldn’t have him forever. But I was sure as hell going to take whatever moments the grace of fate now gifted to us.

Because sometimes, a moment was all it took to change things.

To change everything.

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