Page 30 of Winters Heat

“You can see.” His throat hurt with guttural vibrations. He didn’t recognize its sound.

“Not as much as I want to.”

He released her hands, and she arched into him, digging her nails into his shoulder blades. She clawed for blood. Marking him as hers. She could leave scars for all he cared. He’d own that constant reminder.

Her legs opened wider, straining at her pants, then she pulled from him and unclasped the front opening of her bra. Her swollen breasts fell free and taunted him. She was intentionally trying him. It was a game of who could distract who more. And it was fucking awesome.

“I told you I was calling the shots here. That’s the only reason you got your hands back.”

“I got my hands back because–”

He stopped her with a suck on her bare nipple.

She bucked against him, then ran her hand over her breasts, massaging. “You were moving too slow.”

Too slow? He was worried about moving too fast. His mind spun circles. Christ, if he died on this op, she’d be to blame because she was killing him.

He gave her ass a swift lift and tugged off the pants and small scrap of lace covering her, tossing it aside. She lay naked before him, a smile lighting her face. She wanted him. Trusted him. That was no small feat after the days she’d had recently.

He wicked his fingers over her wet folds with more pressure, tightening his attention on her clit. Arousal poured off of her, musky and mouth-watering.

“Stop teasing me, Colby.”

“Honey, we’ve only just begun.”

“I can’t handle it. I need release. Now.”

“You will.” It was a promise he would keep more than once.

“Please.”

He tried to shush her.

Mia reached for him. “Don’t make me beg.”

He rolled between her legs and kissed. She tasted extraordinary. Sweet and memorable. Her pleas broke off. Harsh breaths forced past her lips.

“You’ll come so hard, you’ll forget the hell you’ve endured.”He’d do anything to wipe the attacks from her memory.

“Promise me.”

“Promise.”

He spread her wide, lashing his tongue over her. Her juices wept down his chin. Mia flexed toward him, calling his name. Damn straight, she could wear out his name. He loved hearing it pour off her tongue.

She fisted the comforter in one hand and drifted her other down her stomach. Her fingers met his tongue. The sensation whipped lightning-fast down his spine. She grazed, dancing with his kiss, and moved him swifter and harder. Her cries were louder, her legs spread further, heels digging trenches into the mattress.

He paused to watch. She wasn’t shy and thank God, because this worked for him in ways he didn’t know. A possessive need flashed, and he joined back in, his tongue commingled with her fingers.

“More.”

Sure thing.He’d take orders from her. He speared her tight entrance with two fingers. Mia clamped around him. Such a tight pussy. Liquid fire coating his fingers. He’d explode if he entered her. She deserved better than an eight second rodeo, which was all he’d probably muster at the moment. He tried and failed to recount the steps of cleaning his rifle. He tried to list the phonetic alphabet. Backwards. Zeta. Yankee. X-ray. Nothing helped.

“Colby,” she said breathlessly. “Don’t stop. Harder. I need more.”

Harder. He could do harder. He could do whatever the hell she told him to do. He grabbed her ass, holding her tight against his mouth. She pulled from him, pushed toward him, but it didn’t matter.

Finally, he couldn’t handle anymore and rumbled into her sweetness, the vibrations tearing the last shreds of her climb into an untamed climax. She bucked hard against his mouth, her hands ripping through his hair. She could pull every last strand out if it meant that orgasm was as strong as it sounded. She cried his name and cursed him. He forced her through it until the last of her ripples crossed his tongue, and she went limp.

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