Page 110 of The Kiss of Deception

The most exquisite torture.

Her moans escalate from unintelligible murmurs to raspy screams as the pace of my strokes increases, and with her nipples between my fingers, she’s coming around me and screaming my name.

I painfully peel my lips off her neck and slow the rhythm of this dance between our sweaty naked bodies—it’s too soon to be over.

I breathe a long breath, memorizing her in as I take her languidly, etching every single detail of her into my mind—her face twisted in raw agonizing pleasure, eyes closed, mouth agape. The flush on her cheeks, the wild mess of her inky hair, the lovebites on her breasts heaving up and down with her breaths.

So torturously beautiful. So beautifully mine.

Pulling out of her, I groan at the loss, even if for only a minute, and flip her over, bending her on the desk. I dot a trail of haphazard kisses along her back, feeling the rough intake of her erratic breathing as my exploring fingers crawl along the sides of her torso.

Unable to spend another second not inside of her, I spread her legs with my knee and grab her hips as I position myself at her entrance, reveling in her glistening softness. I push inside of her again, and we groan in unison. Groans that become louder, competing with telltale smacks of skin against skin.

Propping one of her knees on the desk, I slide deep, deep, deeper with the new angle, hitting her in all the right places. Her hands slip on the surface and send the last pieces of paper floating to the floor. Zoe follows, falling off the edge with a raspy cry.

I fuck her through her orgasm, through her screams, brutal strokes to keep her flying, to keep her grounded until she’s on earth again.

“Miles.” I never was a believer, but my name in her breathless voice is my new religion. I look up at the sky, searching for something. “Don’t come yet. Not like this, Mil—”

Squeezing her hips with a warning, I manage to grunt. “Baby, if you don’t want me to come right now, you have to stop moaning my name like that.”

The words keep coming in pants. “I want to see your face when you come.”

Well, fuck. How can I deny my girl?

With a last deep stroke, I pull out. Before she’s coherent enough to complain, I have her up on my arms and walk forward. Shoving her against the shelves, I push my cock inside her pussy, my new favorite place in the world.

I wanna take residence and make her arms my permanent address.

Knowing I won’t last much longer, I lead her hand to the small bud between her legs.

“I don’t—I don’t think I can come again.”

I dip my head to her chest and bite a tight nipple. “You can. You will.”

She shakes her head, but her body bounces, pushing back against me. Taking advantage of my hold on her, I spread her cheeks, a finger applying pressure to the tight rim of muscle in an unspoken promise. Her sharp breath is surprised as wide eyes stare, delirious. As soon as I push inside, she screams and strangles my cock—and my finger—harder than before.

“Good girl,” I grunt between clenched teeth.

She clenches again. I don’t know if I’m breathing at all anymore. Darkness encircles my vision and my head falls back, my eyes rolling to the back of my mind, finding fireworks and shooting stars and all the colors in the fucking rainbow as I empty myself into her.

God, I’ve never felt anything remotely close to this. It’s so much more than blinding pleasure or mind-blowing euphoria. It’s pure bliss. Happiness. Peace. Plenitude.

She, us, this. All of this.

It’s better than heaven.

It’s home.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Zoe

My pillow moves under me.

My pillow moves under me?

Befuddled by the fog of deep sleep blurring my mind, I force my eyes open at great cost, but all I see is nothing. It’s nighttime, the moon only a sliver, its glow too dim to make the night anything other than charcoal dark.

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