Page 91 of Caught Stealing

My palms skate up the smooth muscles of his back while he grips the bottom of my shirt, shoving it up until we’re forced to break apart so he can pull it over my head. His shirt joins mine on the floor soon after, and our lips come crashing back together.

The second they do, something inside us both ignites.

Hands grasp bare skin, our hips rocking into each other of their own accord—both of us painfully hard behind our zippers. His tongue licks at the seam of my lips in a taunting, wicked caress, leaving me no option other than to open for him. It flicks and rolls against mine, exploring my mouth slowly, all-encompassingly. Like it’s the only thing in the world he wants to be doing.

Like he could spend the rest of his life doing it.

A moan breaks free when I cup his length through the denim, and I greedily drink it down. The taste of his unfiltered desire only heightens my own, adding to the feral, uncontrollable need burning between us.

Phoenix rips his mouth away and presses his forehead to mine, his breathing coming out in harsh pants. “You wanna thank me, baby?”

I nod, my forehead rolling against his. “Yeah, I do.”

He smiles against my mouth before brushing another kiss over my lips. “Turn around. Hands on the counter.”

My heart ratchets some more at the husky cadence of his command, and I spin in place before pressing my palms to the cool surface of the vanity. But the pounding against my ribs shows no sign of slowing as I watch him step up behind me in the mirror.

His eyes, dark with hunger and desire, meet mine before he brushes his lips across my shoulder. He works his way toward my neck at the same time his deft fingers flick open the button of my jeans and draw down the zipper. Desire ripples down my spine, following the path his mouth takes as it skims over my back until his knees hit the ground. And then his fingers hook into the waistband of my jeans, dragging them and my boxers down with him, leaving me completely naked.

Kiss after kiss is pressed to my heated skin. First on my hip, then my ass, before his teeth sink into the firm muscle. They bite the flesh there hard enough to draw a moan from my lips, and my hand reaches around to grip his hair.

“On the counter,” he murmurs, his hand returning mine to the vanity.

Goddamnit.

“What if I want to touch you?” I rasp, my fingertips clawing at the counter as I try to keep them to myself.

Touching him is all I want. All I need.

It’s a craving at this point. An addiction I’m desperate for a fix of.

I glance behind me to find him smiling against my skin, eyes locked on my face.

“You’ll have to be patient.”

It’s a difficult task when one of his hands slips between my legs, heightening my anticipation to unbearable lengths. And it only gets more excruciating as his hand travels up my inner thigh, inching toward my cock at an agonizingly slow pace. Except his intention isn’t to bring me pleasure. No, he’s trying to kill me on the spot by removing his touch entirely.

“Oh, my God.” A small bout of irritation slams into me as I turn and glare at him. “Are we playing this edging game again?”

His raspy laugh sets my nerve endings on fire when the heat of it floats over the back of my thigh. “Relax, baby. I promise, I’m not.”

I track his movement as he reaches for the cabinet below and pulls out a bottle of lube.

Oh, thank fuck.

There’s an amused arch to his brow as he flicks open the cap and douses his index and middle fingers in the liquid. “Are you done complaining now?”

“Not a chance until you—”

All words leave my vocabulary as his fingers slip up my crease and press against my hole. They cease to exist as he massages the tight ring of muscle, the pressure drawing my balls up with desire.

A single digit breaches me, and I gasp at the intrusion, the sound turning into a savage groan as he continues biting and nipping my cheek while kneading the other in his palm.

His soft laugh floats over my skin when more unhinged noises come from my throat at his torment. “You were saying?”

Was I saying something? I don’t think I was. Then again, it’s hard to think about anything other than the way he keeps swiping his finger over my prostate like a fuckboy on Tinder.

He presses another finger inside me, the extra stretch drawing a chain of expletives from my lips. “Holyshitmotherfuck.”

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