Page 61 of Wicked

His breath coasts over my lips. He nuzzles my mouth with his. Smooths his lips over mine. I breathe him in. Stop looking at him and close my eyes. There’s no disdain, pity, or regret. There’s only an emotion I’m afraid to acknowledge because I feel the same.

I’m falling for Ryker. Three weeks and I’m burning up from the inside out with the way he looks at me. With what he can do with his mouth and his hands. I run the tip of my tongue over the seams of his mouth. Flick their fullness.

He opens to me. I slip my tongue inside. He groans beneath the onslaught of my teeth and my tongue. I nip on his bottom lip. Suck on his tongue. Tangle our tongues. Taste the wall of his mouth. He tastes good. Smooth ale and juicy, bloody steak.

I writhe beneath him, the pressure building inside me. This hot need that grows and grows. I’m done with being patient. I won’t ask for his patience either. I need him. Need him to claim me.

I’m consumed by him. Touched in every way. He has a firm hold on my heart, body, and soul, and I need him to complete that hold, to make me his in every way possible.

Every. Way. Possible.

21

Ryker

I’ve never been with a woman like her. She’s like no other. Her desire overtakes me. Her trauma threatens to make me into a monster. It’s a good thing those bastards are dead. Harper Garrix is mine. No harm will ever come to her.

“Ryker.”

Her small fingers push into my hair. Her body undulates beneath me. She’s tiny, but she’s not fragile. Harper is strong. She can take all of me.

“Sweetheart.” I nuzzle her neck.

God, she feels so good. Soft and warm. I drag my nose down the column of her neck. Shower kisses on her dainty shoulders. Take a nipple in my mouth. She smashes my face against her breast with her palms to the back of my head. Chuckling, I give her what she wants. I suck harder. Lick more. Graze my teeth over one, then the other little bud.

She arches her back.

“Oh, God, Ryker. That feels so good.”

That so?

I skim my rough palm down her side. Cup and squeeze her hip. Slip my hand between her legs.

“Tell me no and I’ll stop.” The trauma she went through . . .

“Never. Make me yours.”

And those are the important words I needed to hear.

My hand goes low, stroking her inner thigh. Soft. God, she’s so fucking soft. She moans and grabs at my hair. I inhale her scent. Sweet. Cool like fresh air. I lick at her skin. Salty. Warm. Like tasting her tears. She yanks on my hair.

Her pleasure is my pain, and I am in heaven. I slip my finger inside her. She’s small. Tight. Wet. Groaning, I add another finger. She’s too tight. I don’t want to hurt her. She squirms on my fingers. Rocks her hips against my hand.

“Ryker, please.”

“Not yet, babe.”

I move low, trailing kisses on the perfection of her small breasts, her flat abs, the round curves of her hips, and her inner thighs. My face buried on the soft flesh of her inner thigh, I catch a whiff of her scent. Sweet and musky.

A growl rumbles from me.

Fuck, she’s my wet dream come true. I need a taste. I cover her sex with my mouth. Lap up her flavor with the flat of my tongue. I’m spot on. She tastes good.

Needing to get a feel for her too, I suck on her swollen clit. My eyes close. Rolls back in my head. Fucking-A. I am done. Harper has ruined me for other women. After having a taste of her, she’s all I crave.

Her fingers fist in my hair. Yanks. Lets go. Massages my scalp. My cock jumps and twitches inside my boxers. My beast likes it. Likes her rough touches followed by her apologetic, tender caresses. She’ll be the death of me.

I work at her with my mouth. She trembles. Her legs clamp my head, and lifting her hips, Harper brings her sex to my face, like a feast to a hungry man, and yeah, I’m hungry. I eat her out.

---