Page 21 of Dangerous Devotion

“Come down here,” he said softly.

I swallowed and slowly moved back down—carefully working around his arm—until I straddled his hips.

He was hard and ready beneath me, a delicious pressure against my still-sensitive core.

“I want you to take me all the way,” he said, his chest rising and falling rapidly, “as deep as you can.”

I met his gaze, and his irises were so dark, they appeared almost black.

I hovered above him for a moment before I took him in one long, fluid motion.

His sharp intake of breath was my undoing. The feeling of him deep within me pushed me over the edge again, causing me to spasm around him.

His eyes flared with raw desire, and he gripped my hip with his good side, fingertips digging into my skin as he guided me up and down his length. Faster and faster. Before he let go and let me take over.

I rocked back and forth, each roll of my hips sending fire coursing through me.

I clenched my core as another orgasm washed through me.

Vince threw his head back and clenched my waist once more. “Punk,” he groaned, his voice rough, choked by the intensity of his own pleasure as he thrust upward twice, then came right along with me.

I opened my eyes and stared down, and the sight of him beneath me was intoxicating and heartwarming. This strong and dominant man had let me set the pace, had trusted me enough to let go of his tight handle on control, and had let me lead.

I leaned down. Pressed a kiss against his chest before I settled my cheek against him, skin to skin, feeling the hard planes of his chest beneath me.

His scars, older ones, that I had yet to ask about, were rough under my fingertips, but they didn’t detract from his rugged beauty. Instead, they served as a reminder of the world we lived in—a world marked by violence and danger.

He lifted his uninjured hand to the back of my head, ran his fingers through my short hair, then gently pulled me up for a searing kiss.

This was just the beginning, and we had a lot of time to explore.

CHAPTER FIVE

Ipulled Jemma closer, savoring the warmth of her body against mine.

Holy shit, was my future wife beautiful.

And luckily daring enough to not even hesitate when I told her to sit on my face or ride me.

“You’re a spitfire, grasshopper.”

“Grasshopper?” she said, raised a single eyebrow, and looked up at me.

“I’m testing out new nicknames.”

“So that’s why you asked me if I wanted to keep my hair green?” she asked, “because you think I would let you live if you nickname me after a bug? And what’s wrong with Punk…or Little One anyway?”

I squeezed her against me. “You will always be my little punk, but it might be strange if I call my wife and the mother of my children ‘Punk’.”

She didn’t reply but laid her head back on my chest and started following the black lines of my tattoo.

The silence between us stretched.

“What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?”

“Hmmm,” was all she said.

Which wasn’t good enough. “Talk to me.”

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