Page 26 of His Bride

“But you want me to touch you.Iwant me to touch you,” I murmur.

“You don’t know what I want.”

“I can sure as hell taste what you want.”

We stare at each other for five goddamn seconds when the tension finally breaks.

She lunges for me, grabbing me, fingers in my hair, clawing and pulling at me. I take it, every ounce of her fire, and haul her against me, crashing my lips to hers with a deep, filthy kiss, and I tongue fuck her mouth like it owes me something.

Her mouth tastes even better than I remember. The taste clings to me, and I rip her oversized shirt right off.

She breaks the kiss and grabs my shirt, pulling, sending buttons flying, her hands everywhere on me all at once.

She’s a madwoman, and I’m drowning willingly in her loss of control as we kiss and bite and fight. It’s wild, sending me soaring.

This. This is what I’ve needed. What I’ve craved. The unhinged parts of us. The best parts of us.

I palm her tits, squeezing, pulling at her nipples until she gasps, biting at my bottom lip.

She moans into my mouth, the sound vibrating against my tongue, primal and begging. She pulls at my hair, her body arching, and I take us down, tumbling to the floor.

Giana hisses, and I lick my way up her chest to the softness of her breasts while she squirms and quivers underneath me.

I suck a nipple in my mouth, biting, pulling, and she…oh, fuck, she’s dragging my head to her, sliding her tongue into my mouth like I’m the last goddamn supper.

She pulls my hair, trying to yank it out at the roots, and I go at her neck with a savagery that would leave a mark. Iwantto leave a mark. My fucking mark, because that’s what she is. Mine.

My mouth’s on hers again, and her hands slip down to my shoulders under my ruined shirt where her nails sink into my flesh and she bites my lip. It’s a delicious kind of pain, a sting that provokes and incites a riot within me.

I growl, my fingers trailing down her body, seeking out the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist. We’re wild animals, feral beasts caught up in a frenzy of need and hunger.

We’re out of control, and I need to fuck her.

Now.

Chapter 7

GIANA

Caelian rises over me, his face a twisted, hot snarl of passion and need, and it heightens the knell in me.

I need him. This.

Hunger rips through my veins, and deep inside that knell grows into a bone-crushing desire, and as it disappears, I throb, only to have it happen all over again and again.

It’s an ache, a beat of pure want and I push up against him, my shirt in tatters, body naked and so alive I could burst into flames at a touch.

But it’s not a clean need. It’s full of filth and anger, and a drive to inflict pain, to take on whatever he can hand out.

If I could, I’d tie myself down, beg for a whip, something so thin that when it hits, it draws blood. Or have him crush my bones as he takes his fill. I don’t know why.

Maybe…maybeI want to be punished. More, I want him to suffer, too. Give Caelian the whip, the torture devices of passion, but I want to use them on him, too.

How dare he let his brother fuck me while he does the same? How dare my body, my soul, like something that wrong, that depraved, that twisted version of right?

And then he says so much ugly shit to me, words that hurt, yet here he is kissing me, touching me, driving me mad with lust. How dare he?

I want to draw his blood.

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