Page 82 of The Candlemaker

The thought made me gasp. It made my eyes spring open, and the sight of his mouth on me, melting me to his touch, made me desperate to return the favor.

“Frankie—” He started to protest when I moved lower, so I crushed my mouth to his.

He clasped my face, and our tongues sparred, hungry and wild, until I pulled back, panting.

“I want to taste you,” I declared, watching his eyes darken.

He slid his hand from my jaw, his finger grazing my swollen lips, before he pushed two of them into my mouth.

“Do you?” he rumbled low.

Just because I couldn’t speak didn’t mean I couldn’t answer. Holding his gaze, I sucked hard on his fingers, watching his lips twitch as he let out a groan.

Chandler slid his fingers free, wiping them over my lips to wet them. “You’re going to need it.”

I shivered, saliva pooling on my tongue as his cock thickened against me.

“Go ahead and taste me, my little flame.”

I didn’t need any further invitation, slinking down over hills and valleys of muscle, my lips grazing over his hot skin until I hovered over his cock. My eyes flicked back to his, a thrill running through me at the way he watched me. Like he was Prometheus chained to the rock for starting this fire, and I was responsible for his punishment.

I wrapped my fingers around his girth, unable to close them completely as I guided the swollen tip to my mouth.

The noise he made when I fit him between my lips sent heat dripping from between my thighs.

I couldn’t help my small moan as I took him deeper, my hand feeding me more and more of his length until I started to gag.And that was only half of it.

“God, Frankie,” he groaned. “You feel so good. So fucking…”

I reduced him to grunts and pants when I started to move. Up and down. Sucking him hard. Stroking him with my tongue. His hands worked their way into my hair, massaging my head as I tried to take him deeper.

“Fuck, Frankie…” he hissed, his cock swelling thicker between my lips. “Fuck, that mouth of yours…” he groaned when I took as much of him as I could, his tip butting against the back of my throat, and tried to swallow.

His fist curled tight and yanked my head back. “You want to burn me or blow me, my little flame? Because I won’t survive both,” he warned hotly.

I licked the saliva from my tingling lips, my gaze glancing hungrily to his cock. I wanted to blow him. I wanted to suck him so hard he’d swearI’d pulled his soul from his body. But not for our last night together.

Rising from between his legs, I picked up the candle we’d left on the floor from last night. “I want to burn you.” My tongue worked over the words as I lit the wick.

I trembled as I moved up to straddle him. His jaw pulsed wildly as I moved back on top to straddle him, his cock nestled against my core.

“I’m sorry. I only have cinnamon,” I said, watching the wax start to melt around the flame.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because you don’t like cinnamon.”

“Why the hell do you think that?” he growled.

My throat bobbed. “Because…you always steer customers away from it at the store.”

His eyes went wide, realizing just how closely I paid attention to him while he was there. And then he was moving—pushing himself up and hooking his thick arm around my back to hold me close so our faces were level.

“It’s not because I don’t like it,” he rasped, his hand climbing to notch his fingers under my chin.

My brows creased. “Then why?”

His head came closer, his nose nuzzling mine for a second, before I felt him take a deep inhale.

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