Page 75 of Veil of Dust

“We’re not done here,” she says.

“Not even close.”

“I want all of it, Tiziano,” she says. “But I want to take it. I want to make the rules.”

I nod. “Then tell me what to do.”

She pulls her shirt over her head—not fast, not teasing. Just precise.

It drops to the mud behind her.

Her skin’s streaked in ash and heat.

“Wait,” I say.

She raises an eyebrow.

I drop to one knee.

Reach up.

Touch the side of her leg, drag my hand up the inside of her thigh, slow and steady.

Her breath hitches again.

“I want to worship you before I fuck you,” I say.

That makes her go still.

“Say it again,” she says.

“I want to worship you,” I repeat. “Every inch. Every scar.”

She swallows hard. Her hands drop to my shoulders.

I lift her leg over my shoulder, kiss the inside of her knee.

She grabs the back of my head.

“Then don’t talk,” she says.

Her hands are on my chest again—pushing, grabbing, tearing.

We hit the ground hard.

Her body slams into mine, and the impact knocks the breath from both of us. Mud coats her thighs. My palms slide against the back of her hips and drag her against me, rough and fast.

She rolls me over like she’s fighting me for control—and maybe she is.

I let her win.

This time.

Her mouth finds mine again—open, desperate. Not gentle.

Her tongue moves like she’s still angry.

Still hungry.

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