Page 193 of Remy

He lifts me high enough that I can rest my elbows against the roof of the car for support, his palm sliding beneath my dress to guide one leg, then the other, over his shoulders.

“Hold the material.” He kisses the inside of each thigh, the contact scorching as he palms my ass. “I want to see you.”

I comply with a shudder, teetering on my elbows, caught between manic lust and tumultuous nerves as I raise the heavy skirt to pool at my stomach.

He plants another press of lips to one inner thigh, then the other, his predatory gaze staring between my legs.

“I can fucking smell your lust.” He groans.

My breath catches as his thumbs skim the elastic crotch of my panties, then shift straight down my center.

I whimper, arching into him.

His stubble scrapes my sensitive skin as he slowly creeps his mouth toward my core, planting more kisses, inching my legs apart.

My pulse thunders in my throat, the anticipation creating an inferno in my veins until the hot heat of his breath is tormenting me through the lace. He pauses, his eyes meeting mine.

“Stop me, Pyro.”

I stare at him, his gaze wild yet slightly pleading. “I’ll never want to stop you.”

Viciousness takes over his features. Then his mouth is on me, his hot tongue licking through the lace.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I can already taste you.”

My pussy flutters. The rest of my body follows suit.

I pant as he laps at me through my underwear, the strokes of his tongue coming harder, faster.

“Remy, please.” I rake a hand into his hair, pulling at the strands.

I need more.

He inches back, and I almost cry in protest. But then his fingers grip the lace at my crotch and savagely rip the thin material apart.

I jolt with the brutality. Whimper with renewed greed.

He looks at my pussy through the moonlight. Stares intently.

I’ve never been so vulnerable, and alive, and mindless, and obsessed.

“You fucking glisten, Ollie.” He strokes a thumb down my core, making me feel how incredibly wet I am.

Then his mouth is on me. His tongue in me.

“Oh, God.” I throw my head back, closing my eyes to the blissful onslaught.

He growls, kissing, lapping, sucking.

His tongue is everywhere, raking over my clit, sliding down my core.

He feasts and I savor the devouring, his jaw scratching responsive skin, his lips destroying my virtue.

I don’t care that we’re at a crime scene. That his men are yards away. Or how dead bodies litter the outskirts of this fantasy.

All I care about is him.

That he’s mine.

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