Page 33 of Carnival Mayhem

A low growl rumbles in his throat as his hand squeezes my hip. “I want to hear those cries, little bird. I want to make you feel so good you can’t remember anyone else.” He nibbles his way down my neck, his tongue tracing a path that makes my breath hitch. “But you have to earn it.”

My breath catches as he speaks. Earn it. Those words send a thrill through me, something primal and captivating. I want his marks on my body. I want him to stake his claim.

“How?” I barely recognize the needy tone in my own voice. My hands tangle in his hair, keeping him close.

His hand slides up my back, sending shivers dancing across my skin. “By taking everything I give you. Every kiss, every touch, every stroke...” He punctuates each word with a kiss along my collarbone. “Show me you can take it all, little bird. That you can fly apart for me.”

My entire body tingles, every nerve ending coming alive under his lips and hands. His tongue teases the hollow of my throat as his hands grip my hips, urging me to grind against him.

“Yes,” I breathe. “God, yes.”

“Good girl,” he hums, his breath sending goosebumps along my skin. “Now, for your first lesson...”

He kisses a path back to my ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. “I’m going to kiss you, touch you, make you feel so damn good. But you’re not allowed to come.”

He swirls his tongue in my ear, biting gently on the lobe. “Not until I say so. Understand?”

The challenge in his words pulls a whimper from deep within me. “Ye-yes, I understand.”

His hand finds the nape of my neck, tilting my head back to expose my throat. He kisses along my pulse point, his tonguelapping against the rapid beats of my heart. “If you come before I say you can, the lesson starts over.”

I bite my lip, a unique thrill coursing through me. “And if I make it through?”

Nash’s chuckle sends vibrations through my body. “Then I’ll give you what you’ve been yearning for. Every inch of me, driving into you while you scream my name.”

I whimper as he teases my earlobe with his teeth. His fingers tighten on my hips as he slides me forward, grinding me against the unmistakable hardness straining his jeans. My hands fist in his hair, holding him close, needing this connection.

Nash pulls me to my feet, his hand warm against mine. He leads me through the trailer to his room, which I’ve never been in before. The bright morning light streams through the windows, splashing across the bed, making the moment surreal.

He halts near the bed, holding my hand to his chest. “There’s only one rule here, little bird.” His eyes hold mine. “You have to do everything I say.”

I swallow, my mouth dry. I can feel the weight of his gaze on me. “Okay.”

“Strip,” he commands, his voice soft but unwavering. “Take it all off and put on a show for me.”

My heart rate quickens as I nod, excitement and trepidation flowing through me. I face Nash and slowly lift my shirt over my head, angling my body to give him a better view. I know he can see the desire in my eyes, reflected back at me in his.

With deliberate movements, I unbutton my jeans, sliding them down my legs, followed by my panties. Stepping out of the circle of denim and lace, I raise my arms to undo my bra. I let the straps fall from my shoulders, dragging the lace slowly down my arms, my eyes never leaving his. I stand before him, completely naked, vulnerable, and undeniably aroused.

A low growl rumbles in his throat, and he steps forward. But he doesn’t touch me, not yet. His gaze roams over my body, drinking me in. My nipples pebble in the cool air, and I feel myself getting wetter by the second.

Nash takes his time, savoring the sight of me with an appreciation that shoots straight to my core. “Beautiful,” he breathes, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. His fingers skim my cheek and jaw, his thumb grazing my lower lip.

Without warning, he spins me around and pushes me gently toward the bed. “Grab the headboard.”

My heart is pounding as I do as he says, gripping the wooden bars of the headboard. I feel the bed dip as he joins me, his body heat warming the air behind me. His hands wrap around my wrists, guiding them to the center of the headboard, and then I feel the soft fabric of a silk tie winding around them.

“Stay just like that.” His breath is hot against my shoulder, making me shiver. “Right where I can see you.”

The sound of him removing his clothes fills the room—the rustle of fabric, the jangle of his belt buckle. And then I feel the mattress shift as he kneels on it, his lips and hands caressing the backs of my thighs. “So perfect,” he murmurs, planting soft kisses up the backs of my legs, making me quiver.

His lips press against a sensitive spot just behind my knee, making me gasp. And then his hands are on my ass, kneading, squeezing, claiming me as his. His tongue traces a path up the crease, making me squirm, and then his lips are on me, his mouth replacing his hands.

His fingers delve into my folds, spreading me open as his tongue swipes and laps. My knees nearly buckle at the sensation, and I cry out, my wrists straining against the restraints. He hums his approval, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through me. One finger teases my entrance, slipping inside ashis tongue dances over my clit. I cry out again, unable to hold back.

Nash’s mouth does things to me that make coherent thought impossible. I’m reduced to a quivering mess of need, and I’ve only been with him a week.

“Please,” I beg, my voice muffled by the pillows. “Please, I need to come. Let me come, Nash.”

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