Page 78 of Living on the Edge

“Don’t mark me unless you plan to own it,” I hiss.

“Well, we already know I want to own this.” He drops to his knees and starts kneading my ass. He presses light kisses along the bottom of my spine, the curve of my hips, and then on each butt cheek. Then he uses his teeth, gently tugging and nipping at the firm globes.

“And I owned this last time we were together.” He slides a finger between my legs. “Spread your legs and back up, so you can lean forward… give me better access.”

I quickly get in position, and he presses his mouth to my core, lapping at the arousal pooling at my entrance.

“Oh, fuck, Angus…” My voice sounds raspy and needy—like a woman who’s desperate to come.

He slides his mouth away from where I want it and starts sucking on the tender skin on the inside of my thigh. A moan of frustration leaves me.

There’s no doubt in my mind he’s going to leave a mark. Probably several of them. Despite what I said, I don’t mind. In fact, the idea of him leaving marks on my body turns me on.

With his mouth on my thigh, he keeps one hand on my hip—holding me in place—and uses the other one to slap my ass a few times. I squirm in surprise, but then surge back, ready for more

“Too hard?” he asks in a heated whisper.

“N-no.” I’m frustrated—so close but so far—but he’s not hurting me.

After an eternity of blissful torture, he moves back to my pussy. He licks and sucks, occasionally biting and circling my clit, until I slam my hands flat against the wall. “Angus, please!”

He chuckles against my quivering flesh and presses two fingers inside me. He twists and curves them, seeking out the fleshy little place he knows will get me where I want to go—and my orgasm rips through me. My hips buck, my toes curl, and my body goes rigid as wave after wave washes over me.

“Now you’re ready,” he says, getting to his feet. He grabs me, and before I realize what he’s doing, tosses me over his shoulder as he stalks to the bed.

“Face to face this time,” I say as he dumps me on the mattress.

“What?” He looks confused for a second.

“You seem to really like doing me from behind—what’s that about? Do you think I’m ugly or something?” I don’t really believe that, but it suddenly feels extremely important to look at him while we do this.

“What?” He gapes at me. “No. Fuck no. I just think not being able to see, and subsequently not knowing what I’m going to do next adds a level of sexual tension… Jesus, Ryleigh—you’re beautiful.” He grips my chin between two fingers and gazes at me. “I fucking love looking at you.”

“Then fucking kiss me like you mean it.”

“You need a little romance with your grit?” He pushes my hair out of my eyes, studying me intently.

“Just a little,” I admit in a hushed whisper.

“I can do that.” He leans down as if he didn’t just get me off against the wall with his mouth. His lips are light, sweet—I might even call them tender. When his tongue slips between the seam of my lips, he’s no longer in a hurry. He’s on his side next to me, resting on one elbow, and he uses his free hand to cup my cheek as he kisses me. Our tongues collide with gentle precision, as if we have all the time in the world, and I melt into him.

His caress can be as soft as the smacks on my ass were rough—and it’s a beautiful dichotomy that sends my arousal right back into overdrive.

I pull at his side, suddenly anxious to have him on top of me.

“Fuck me, Angus. Please. Now. I need you inside me…”

“I thought you wanted me to kiss you?”

“I want you to do both.”

Chapter23

Angus

If sex hadan ice cream flavor, it would be Ryleigh. Sweet and delicious, soft and creamy. I could kiss and touch her forever. She’s the yin to my yang in the bedroom, and I’ve never met a woman I’m more compatible with. I plan to coax a few more orgasms from her, but not yet. She needs something different from me tonight, and while it should make me uncomfortable—I don’t do emotions when it comes to sex—I can’t seem to refuse her.

Asking me to own up to leaving marks on her skin doesn’t scare me—if she wants people to know where it came from, I’m happy to tell them. But I don’t think she does. I think shelikesthe idea of us sharing a dirty little secret.

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