Page 83 of Innocent Intentions

His gaze is almost reverent.

His eyes darken and his pupils blow wide. He drags his fingers through the mess, swirling his seed across my skin. Spreading it.

I shudder.

He pinches my nipples, hard.

A needy moan rips from my throat. Even the slightest touch lights me up. My body remains on edge, still desperate for the orgasm I now accept will never come.

His fingers sliding up my neck and curl around my jaw. He pinches my cheeks together, forcing my gaze to his.

His voice is pure command. Pure ownership.

“Taste yourself on me.”

The words are my only warning before his mouth claims mine. His tongue pushes past my lips, stroking, devouring, conquering me.

I respond immediately.

The kiss is rough and consuming. He’s not kissing me. He’s reminding me he’s in charge.

Tasting myself should be repulsive. But from his lips, I crave it. I taste sweet, like fruit.

He bites my lower lip before pulling away. It’s over too soon.

I barely have time to catch my breath before he drags two fingers though the release frosting my skin. He scoops some up, then raises his fingers to my lips.

“Open.”

I obey instinctively. Because I never want to be denied my pleasure again.

The taste is salty, musky, unmistakably him.

He watches intently as I lick his fingers clean, sucking softly before he pulls them free with a wet pop.

His breath catches as our eyes meet.

The moment stretches, electric. Charged.

We’re thinking the same thing.

The next thing I suck will be his cock.

His smirk is dark, satisfied. He drags more of his release across my lip, feeding me every last drop.

He doesn’t stop until there’s nothing left. And when I’ve swallowed it all, he nods in approval.

Something inside me thrums with pride.

He notices.

He always notices.

“How do we taste combined?” He asks, genuinely curious.

I swallow, my cheeks flaming.

“Sweet and salty,” I whisper. “Fruity but manly.”

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