Page 63 of Reckless: Corruption

His answering smile is pure predator. “With pleasure.”

The first touch of his tongue against me pulls a startled cry from my throat. No tentative exploration, no gentle introduction—just skilled, devastating intent from the very first lick. He growls against me, the vibration adding another layer of sensation that has my back arching off the bed.

“Fuck,” I gasp, my hands fisting in the pillows above my head. “Jinx!”

He hums in approval at my response, then doubles down on his efforts. His tongue explores every inch of me, learning exactly what makes me gasp, what makes me moan, whatmakes me writhe beneath him. He’s mapping me, cataloging my reactions with the same focus he brings to tracking a target.

When he finds a particularly sensitive spot, he pays it ruthless attention until I’m trembling on the edge. Then he shifts, denying me the release I’m chasing, making me whimper with frustration.

“Jinx, please,” I beg, abandoning pride in favor of need.

He lifts his head just enough to meet my gaze, his lips glistening with evidence of my arousal. “Please what, Glitch?”

“Don’t tease.”

“But I’m so good at it.” His fingers replace his mouth, circling where I need him most without quite providing enough pressure. “Besides, I like the sounds you make when you’re desperate.”

As if to prove his point, he slides one finger inside me, curling it in a come hither motion that hits exactly the right spot. A broken moan tears from my throat as my hips buck against his hand.

“There it is,” he murmurs with satisfaction. “So fucking responsive.”

He adds a second finger, stretching me in the most delicious way, while his thumb circles my clit with maddening precision. The dual stimulation has me climbing rapidly toward release again, my body tightening around his fingers.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his voice rough with desire. “Show me how good it feels, Red.”

My control fractures under his skilled assault. I’m usually the one in charge during sex—setting the pace, determining the boundaries. But Jinx has taken that control without asking, and god help me, I want to give him more.

“Look at me,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for refusal. “Want to see your eyes when you come for me. The first time.”

The implied promise of more—multiple times—pushes me closer to the edge. I force my eyes open, meeting his intense gaze as he works me toward release.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, adding a third finger, stretching me further. “So fucking beautiful.”

My body tightens around his fingers, balanced on the precipice of pleasure so intense it borders on pain. Then he lowers his head again, adding his mouth to the equation, and I shatter.

The orgasm crashes through me like a system meltdown, waves of pleasure short-circuiting every logical thought. My body convulses around his fingers as lights burst behind my eyelids. Jinx doesn’t let up, working me through every aftershock, prolonging the pleasure until I’m trembling with oversensitivity.

“Jinx,” I gasp, my voice wrecked. “Too much.”

He gentles his touch immediately, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh as his fingers slowly withdraw. The loss leaves me empty, aching for more despite my sensitivity.

“That was just the warm-up, Glitch,” he promises, sliding back up my body. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

He captures my mouth in a deep kiss, letting me taste myself on his tongue. It should be vulgar, but instead it’s unbearably intimate, another layer of connection I wasn’t prepared for.

“You’re still dressed,” I observe when he finally releases my lips. My hands move to the hem of his shirt without waiting for permission, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against mine.

He helps me pull the shirt over his head, revealing a torso mapped with scars that tell stories of violence and survival. I trace them with gentle fingers, learning the braille of his history written across his skin.

“Gonna let you play archaeologist with those later,” he promises, catching my wandering hands. “But right now, I need to be inside you.”

The crude honesty of the statement sends fresh heat spiraling through me. I don’t often encounter men who say exactly what they want without games or pretense. But Jinx operates on a different frequency—all raw honesty and focused intent.

“Then get inside me,” I challenge, reaching for his sweatpants. “Unless you’re all talk.”

A growl rumbles through his chest as he captures my wrists again, pinning them above my head. “Careful, Red. I’m hanging onto control by a thread here.”

“Maybe I don’t want you controlled.” I raise my hips, grinding against the hard length still trapped in his pants. “Maybe I want to see what happens when you snap.”

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