Page 27 of Rage's Heart

Like? No, I loved it. I drug my nails deep into his skin. “Don’t stop.”

His rhythm was relentless, fingers pumping in and out as his thumb circled my clit with just the right pressure. I could feel the tension building low in my belly, that familiar tightening that signaled I was close.

“Rage,” I panted, my thighs beginning to tremble. “I’m going to?—”

“Fuck yes you are,” he rumbled. “Let me feel you.”

And that was all I needed to push me over the edge. Body quaking, I shattered beneath him, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crashed through me. His skilled hands worked me through it, gentling when I dug my heels into the mattress, trying to scoot away.

Holy. Shit.

I lay there, breaths sawing in and out, as he pressed soft kisses along my collarbone, my neck, my jaw. When he finally reached my lips, he took my mouth long, wet, slow.

“You’re fucking gorgeous when you come,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I smiled up at him, feeling languid and satisfied, but not nearly done. “Your turn.”

His eyebrows shot up as I pushed at his shoulders, encouraging him to roll onto his back. After a moment of hesitation, he complied, letting me take the lead.

Throwing my legs over his long legs, I straddled his thighs and went for his belt before stalling. “Can I?”

He nodded, watching me with hooded lids as I unbuckled the Harley belt, twisted the button open, and slowly lowered his zipper. The outline of his erection was impossible to miss, straining against the fabric of his jeans. Rage shifted, growing impatient. Tough. This was my show now.

Gripping the denim in my hands, I tugged his jeans down his legs slowly.

My lips turned up. It felt like unwrapping a present at Christmas.

Feeling braver, I palmed him through the thin cotton of his boxers. His breath hitched and I reveled in the sound.

It felt powerful having control over his pleasure.

“Fuck,” he hissed. I ran my fingers across his cock again and his hips jerked up into my touch. “You’re killing me, baby.”

“You don’t like me touching?” I arched a brow.

“I want you to stop torturing me,” he croaked.

Fair enough.

Hooking my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, I pulled down the barrier between us and freed him completely. My eyes widened at the sight of him. “Holy shit.” His cock was long and thick, and leaking at the tip.

“Put me in your mouth.” It was a demand. Not one that I was going to obey, of course. This was my show and I wasn’t done playing.

Watching him defiantly, I wrapped my hand around his rod and stroked from base to tip. Rage’s dark eyes fluttered closed, a deep groan vibrating to the surface from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Jesus, Mac,” he hissed as his hands gripped onto the sheets.

Emboldened by his reaction, I leaned down and pressed a kiss to the tip, tasting the saltiness there.

“Please, baby.” His voice was desperate.

“Since you asked so nicely,” I sassed, taking him into my mouth.

I’d never particularly enjoyed this act with my past partners, but something about the way he responded and the sounds he was making that made me want to give him the best blow job he’d ever had.

I took him as deep into the back of my throat. “That’s it, baby.” His fingers threaded through my hair and he pushed my head lower, encouraging me to take him even deeper.

“Oh, fuck. Your mouth feels so good. Fuck, Mac. Nothing sexier than your plump lips wrapped around my cock.”

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