Page 128 of The Monsters We Are

“I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Waking to the feel of his consort dragging her tongue up the length of his cock would never get old.

Cain threaded his fingers through her sleek hair, drinking in the sight of her straddling his body, wearing only his shirt, and fisting his shaft with blatant territorialism. “I do love that tongue of yours.” Seeing her lick and touch and play with his dick, knowing he owned that beautifully lush mouth, made his possessiveness unfold and stretch out inside him.

Locking their gazes, Wynter swallowed his cock.

He drew in a breath through his nose. “Suck, baby.”

She did, her eyes still fixed on his. Resisting the urge to take over, he watched as she worked every inch of him, length and girth.Christ. It seemed as if, over time, she’d learned and filed away every little thing he liked—just as he’d done for her.

The wet heat of her mouth, the tight stretch of her lips, how hard she sucked, the rasp of her tongue against each ridge and vein . . . It was utter perfection. “My pretty little toy knows just how to make me feel good.”

Her eyes flared with heat. She upped her game, sinking down faster, sucking harder, eating at his control. Until he had no choice but to snatch up her head, since he wanted to come deep inside her body, not in her mouth.

He used the head of his cock to paint her lower lip with drops of pre-come. “Don’t lick them off. Leave them there. I want to see them while I take you.”

“All right.” She began pumping his cock, her grip sure and bold.

He thrust into her hand with a grunt. “Put my dick inside you.”

Oh, gladly. Wynter dropped down hard, impaling herself in one smooth move. Her breath caught. Jesus, hefilledher—so thick, his shaft pushed against her inner walls with such pressure it stung; pressed on and brushed against every nerve-ending, making her feel overly stuffed.

“Don’t move,” he said when she went to ride him, removing his shirt from her so she was utterly naked. “You just stay right there like that. I’ll move you as and when and where I want you.”

Well.

“Quick warning. My creature is done waiting.”

She’d thought as much. It had risen during their bout of shower sex last night to bite her. As it took three injections of its venom to perform the binding, she’d known the monster would likely bite her again very soon. “Then it’ll be pleased to know I don’t need it to wait any longer.”

His lips curved into a pitying smile as he cupped her hips. “Sweet witch, it wouldn’t have let you make it wait.”

He began slamming her down on his dick, thrusting upwards each time to ram himself deep. He used her in that way he often did, handling her like she was merely a toy that existed purely to get him off—nothing more, nothing less. And she’d long ago accepted how insanely intoxicating she found it.

Wynter dug her nails into his chest, letting him have his way. He took her savagely, his pace furious, his grip on her hips so tight she knew he’d leave bruises. Wynter didn’t care. Not when every upward slam of his cock hit herjust right, winding her body tight.

Pure pleasure ghosted along her soul, soft but so electric it snatched her breath and made her feel so fuckingalive. Hot. Charged. Then it came again and again.

Her heart raced. Her breaths came sharp and fast. Her nipples pebbled. Her skin turned so ultra-sensitive it felt like buzzing little sparks skipped along it, sending a sea of little bumps sweeping over her. “Cain . . .”

“Don’t come. Not yet.” Cain ground his teeth at the sight of his cock, all slick and shiny, disappearing into her body over and over. Christ, she was a fucking vision. Her lips were swollen, the lower one damp with pre-come. A pretty flush had swept up her body, reddening her cheeks. Her tits bounced in an almost hypnotic rhythm, her nipples dark and tight with arousal.

His creature slid beneath his skin, fairly quivering in anticipation. It didn’t push Cain to hurry, content in the knowledge that it would soon bind Wynter to it.

He sent more pleasure sweeping over her soul, so it would feel like a warm, static hand had given her entire being a firm, drawn-out stroke. She arched into the sensation, like a cat would arch into a full-body pet, and pricked his skin harder with her nails.

“Come when you’re ready, pretty witch.”

Her breathing sped up. Her inner walls fluttered. A whimper slipped out of her.

Cain rolled her clit with his thumb, and that was all it took. She came hard, her eyes glazing over, her pussy squeezing him tight. Remaining inside her, he rolled them both over and left all restraint behind as he powered into her, brutal and primitive.

She took it, curling her legs around his hips, scratching at his back. The sting made his balls tighten.

He dragged the siren song of her scent into his lungs. Laced with need and magick, it made his head swim. Wynter Dellavale had been his drug since the first time he’d fucked her, and he knew that would never change. He didn’t want it to.

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