Page 106 of On Thin Ice

“I’m yours, too,” I assured him, my touch tender, soft, as I ran my hands over his flanks, his hips, the small of his back. “I needyouto fuckme. Show me you still want this. Still want me.”

My words seemed to crack something open in him. With a snarl, he pushed me down and crawled over me, eyes dark and burning. “I’ll never stop wanting you,” he vowed, his voice ragged.

And then he kissed me like it was the last time … or like he’d fight off the whole fucking world to keep me with him forever.

I didn’t know which.

He bit my lip until I tasted blood, then soothed the sting with his tongue.

His mouth was everywhere—kissing my jaw, licking my throat, his teeth dragging across my collarbone.

Possessive. Desperate.

Like he didn’t justwantme. Like he needed toownme.

I gasped as he bit down on my right nipple hard enough to make me jolt.

My fingers scrabbled at his back, leaving nail marks across muscle that flexed under my grip.

“Mine,” he rasped, grinding against me like he was trying to fuse us together.

I didn’t argue.

Because yes. God, yes.

I desperately wanted to be his.

Not just in secret, but out in the open.

I wanted everyone to know that I belonged to him, and he belonged to me.

He moved down my body like a man possessed, licking and sucking every inch of my skin until he grabbed my hips and flipped me over like I weighed nothing.

His mouth started another frantic journey, biting the backs of my thighs before sinking his teeth into the curve of my ass.

I let out a guttural moan that didn’t sound anything like me.

“Spread,” he growled.

I obeyed instantly, dragging my knees apart and arching my back, my cock leaking onto the comforter.

He spread me wider and dove in, his mouth hot, filthy, relentless as he devoured my hole. He rimmed me like he wanted to crawl inside my body and live there—tongue plunging deep, dragging back to circle and tease, again and again. Sloppy, loud, and utterly shameless.

Every flick sent fire up my spine. Every press had me sobbing into the pillow.

“Look at you,” he rasped, dragging a finger through his spit. “So fucking pretty, your hole fluttering just for me. Just begging to be filled.”

I heard the soft click of a bottle being opened, then the wet squelch as he squeezed out the lube. A cold drip slid down my crease, and he rubbed it over me with a teasing touch—gentler than I expected, given how feral he’d been a second ago.

Then two fingers shoved inside, all the way to the base.

I cried out, a high, keening sound, my whole body locking up at the stretch. The burn was intense at first, but it quickly morphed into something almost like pleasure. “More,” I gasped. “Please.”

He answered with another finger.

Three now, fucking in and out of me, merciless and deep. He curled them, tapping against my prostate, his mouth dropping to suck a bruise onto the base of my spine.

I was shaking. Moaning. Completely undone.

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