Page 118 of The Kiss of Deception

“Baby.” Framing his jaw, his racing heartbeat, I demand his gaze. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Miles nods, but doesn’t agree.

He plants another apology on my temple, such a soft sweet kiss it almost hurts. “I promise I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.”

Then he seals his vow with a kiss on my lips. It lingers, lasts until his tongue joins, prying my mouth open, nipping and sucking until we’re nothing but frenzy and need and bared souls.

Dragging his mouth down, he draws a wet path to the triangle of my throat, to the exact spot from which he sucks a deep moan.

“Let’s see how good you make it up to me.” Desperate and delirious, I whine as he withdraws completely from me. “Get up on your knees and ride my cock, love.”

After a few breaths to recover, I push onto my knees. He’s sprawled on the mattress like a fucking king, with his dick pointing to heaven and that damn smirk that’s so utterly mine.

His hands find their place at my hips like every angle of my curves was drawn to his size as I straddle his stomach shamelessly, dragging myself south until I’m perfectly aligned over his length.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He watches me undulate, utterly transfixed as I coat him with my wetness.

“And here I thought I would be saying grace today,” I manage to rasp. “On my knees.”

Miles paints his fingerprint into my pulse, his hand spanning my neck, and I’m at his mercy.

“Such a smart mouth.” His hand flexes. “Perhaps I should put it to work.”

My mouth waters, unable to lie and say I would mind.

“Later,” I promise.

With the slightest raise and tilt of my hips, I slide down until I’m seated, and he’s completely inside of me.

And Jesus fucking Christ, indeed.

I am full.

I’m full and brimming, and I might burst at the seams and become little specters of stardust.

Such overwhelming fullness that the first slide always comes with a little sting.

“Fuck—fuck.”

Yeah. My thoughts exactly.

Emboldened by his incoherence, by his jaw that sharpens, his nails that claw into my hips in an effort to keep himself back, I throw my head back and bounce.

“Good girl.” His praise is a direct line to my pussy. I clench around him, and he groans. “Look at you taking me so well. Riding my cock so eagerly.”

I am eager. I’m frantic. I want him so bad I would gladly die from exertion.

“Do you realize we could’ve been doing this all along if you weren’t so stubborn?” He punishes me with a spank. “Makes me wanna paint your ass pink.”

I moan, grinding my clit against his pubic bone. Panting, I ask, “Will you kiss it better?”

Two more slaps. On the third, his hand doesn’t leave, curling around my cheek to pull me up from his dick.

I don’t have time to complain—or even grasp what’s happening.

The wall is cold against my palms as I steady myself, but all I feel is scorching heat and his breath on me.

I don’t have a voice to wonder. I’m too busy screaming in response to the delicious brush of his teeth on my clit as soon as he settles me on his face, my knees framing his head on the crisp white pillow. My whole body shudders and convulses and unravels for him.

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