Page 56 of Hell Breaks Loose

In his hands, I can't fall. Lifted over his head, back down, spin, whip my head back, arch my back over his powerful arm.

Striped with those tattoos that made my mouth water the first time I ever saw him without his shirt on.

Bent backward, I feel his lips, his nose seeking my throat, the hollow of my clavicles.

“Evan…” I whisper to the darkness around us in the studio.

It’s our place. The first place we ever…

“Hell.” His voice is pitch-black satin on my skin.

It’s rhythm and music, pulsing through my body as he explores my naked body with his mouth, gripping me firmly in hands I trust more than myself.

Supporting my thick thighs, wrapped around his middle.

My back eases down onto the platform in the center of the room, my arms outstretched over my head. Feeling him throb against my core, as hard as the muscles in his chest, his arms.

Harder.

He knows exactly how rough to be, how sensual to keep the movements of our gyrations.

One nipple, then the next, drawn sumptuously into his mouth, worshiped completely with a firm, scalding hot tongue.

That tongue that finds its way lower, wrapping around the button of my intense desire.

Curling and teasing.

Spiraling, like our bodies on the dance floor.

Diving down to taste my entire sex, exploring every inch of my grooves, the soft, smoldering center of my pleasure. And at my entrance, he takes his time.

Savoring me, making goosebumps explode across my thighs, down my calves, curling my toes.

And up along my back, nestled in silk, buzzing through my neck and scalp.

My arousal covers his tongue and his lips when he rises from devouring me, locking gazes. I’m on fucking fire.

All I can do is reach down, clutching at his face, thumbing the slick at his chin. Slipping my fingers into that feathery raven hair, pulling him back down, pulling my arms together to squeeze my firming breasts, relieving the ache filling my chest.

Like he can read my mind, he spears his tongue into me, both hands finding their way up my hips and sides, cupping and caressing, the flesh pooling between his fingers as he massages the tender flesh of my bosom.

Shudders of the intense aura building in my middle draw a soft chuckle from his lips, hot breath skimming along my soaked folds.

“I love the way you taste…”

“I love the way you taste me.”

“Here’s a taste of what’s to come…”

Deeper, his tongue explores me, entering me as one hand presses down on my lower abdomen, stilling the writhing roll of my hips, his thumb on the other hand finding its place at the crown of my craving for him.

My need for him to meet my every need.

A climax rockets down my spine, bucking my hips harder onto his face, that sweet release flooding through me, out of me, and all over his lips.

The ecstatic strain lasts for ten seconds, twenty, quavering through me.

“More, gods, I need more!” I cry out, gripping his hair insistently, pulling him to my mouth, to kiss his lips, reaching down to clutch him, pumping the smooth length of his cock with reckless, hopeless abandon.

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