Page 35 of The World Undone

There was a soft clink as she reached for something on the side of the bed, like the sound of rocks against ceramic.

And then a sharp hiss tore from me when a wet chill circled my right nipple—the sensation made more extreme in contrast to the hot oil.

Ice.

My tongue wet my bottom lip as I bit down, a poor attempt to stifle my moan as she carved an icy path from my right nipple to the left, the cool stream left behind by the cube pooling along my sternum.

But when the weight shifted on the bed and she leaned over me, blowing a cool breath on my already-stiff peaks, I gasped.

The gasp turned into a low groan that I couldn’t contain no matter how badly I tried as her lips closed around my nipple, warming the icy breeze with the heat of her tongue.

“Fucking hell,” I whimpered, my fingers digging into the side of my thighs now, the bedsheets not solid enough to keep me from clawing at her.

The pain of my nails digging into my thighs helped center me, but the sharp pain only amplified the pleasure as her tongue traced the icy path to my other nipple.

My breathy gasps sounded pathetic and needy to my ears, but I hardly cared. I was putty in her hands, eagerly and greedily chasing every touch, every kiss that she let me.

She nipped and licked at my neck, my jaw, my earlobe as her hand slid the cube of ice down my stomach—and then lower, lower, lower, until it edged just above, and then over my clit, before it slid between my legs and dissolved completely, devoured by my heat—until it was just the light pressure of her finger against me.

I bucked, chasing more friction, my chest heaving with needy breaths as I bit down hard on my lip.

“Relax,” she whispered, pulling her hand away. My skin pebbled as her breath caressed it. “Just focus on the competing sensations,” she circled a new ice cube over my nipple, leaving it pressed against me and then moving it away in intervals I couldn’t predict, “the way your body reacts,” she moved the cube, keeping it flush against me, drawing down my stomach again, “the way it tries to chase the feeling.” My thighs clenched as she kissed my ear, my neck, “Let yourself sink into it.”

She dipped the ice between my legs again, and I nearly cried out with the pleasure of it—the heat of her fingers mingling with mine, both competing against the ice.

Her body lined against mine as she circled over my clit and when she moaned, the heat of her breath caressed my neck, echoing my own desire.

“Fucking hell, I want you,” I gasped, my head turning towards her but all of my willpower focused on not chasing her mouth with mine.

Her breaths were hot, frequent against my cheek and I knew that this was no easy game for her either. I could feel her own desire lapping against my skin, as strong and demanding as my own.

She shifted away from me again, and I resisted the small whimper as I heard her shuffling around.

When her weight sank down on the mattress again, I felt her smooth skin against mine as she straddled me.

Her clothes were gone.

Fucking finally.

More of that. More of her skin, more of her.

I wanted to be completely engulfed by her—her touch, her taste, her scent.

“You have me,” she whispered. “You have no idea how much you have me.” And then she grabbed my hand and lifted it, pressing my fingers between her legs. Her thong was soaked, drenched with her own desire. “I don’t think I’ve had a dry set of knickers since the day that I met you, Max.” Our fingers twined and, together, we pulled her thong off. She pressed a kiss to my lips as she leaned over me. “You have no idea how badly I want you. What every kiss, every touch, every look does to me.”

Gods, now that I could feel that she was naked, could feel the desire dripping from her, it seemed suddenly cruel that I couldn’t see her. That I couldn’t see the lust shine from her mesmerizing eyes, couldn’t trace every quivering muscle with my stare.

“More,” I whispered, because my brain couldn't fully form thoughts anymore. I just wanted more. More of her. All of her. It would never be enough.

She grinned against my lips. “Open.”

I did as she asked, and she shoved the fabric in my mouth, the cotton wet and flavored with the salt of her. I groaned, taking in her taste, letting it float over me as she pulled back.

My breath caught as more hot oil spilled over me, coating my chest, my nipples. My gasps were muffled by the cloth as the path of oil spilled lower and lower, until it glazed over my clit, the brief flash of heady pain quickly morphing into a sharp bolt of pleasure that made me dizzy.

Her fingers massaged over me, the pad of her thumb circling around my clit, teasing—until, slowly, slowly, she pressed it against me.

I felt every throb pulse through my entire body, like a banging drum in my ear as my tongue soaked in the taste of her.

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