Page 82 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
“Fucking pervert.” I giggle. “No, you wouldn’t have.”
He thrusts against my hip. He’s so hard that his cock bruises me. “Giggle again, and I’ll come all over your sweet, smooth belly.”
I bite my lip, grinning down at him. I love that he’s so into me. Every trembling touch he makes is a battle between reverence and need. Passion. Obsession.
“You’re too honorable.” I rub my thumb along his stubbled jaw. “You would have waited until I was older, ready.”
He scoffs. “You think I’m honorable.”
“With me, yes.”
His gaze turns serious. I think I catch glimmering there. “I would have made it so fucking special, Leila.”
“Tell me,” I whisper.
“I would have pampered you first. Bought you clothes. Taken you to the movies. To a fancy restaurant where they make those stupidly expensive maroon cookies—”
“Macarons.”
“—yeah, macaroons. That’s what I said. Then when we would have come home—toourhome—and I’d have undressed you slowly, got down on one knee, and... asked you to marry me before I worshiped every inch of your body.”
“What?”
“I would have married you first.”
My heart swells. I almost think it will burst from my chest, but then he drops his face to my neck, breathes heavily through his nose, and growls deeply, “But now I can’t wait for that. Right now, I need to fuck you so good, we’ll erase time.”
He slides down my body. I lose sight of him in the shadows beneath the blanket but need to see him. Tossing the covers off me isn’t much better, but there’s enough moonlight to catch the wicked gleam in his eyes as he plunges his tongue into my pussy.
I cry out as he fills me. Grasp the sheets as he grips my ass and forces me to submit to his punishing mouth. All I can focus on is his tongue, sliding, probing, and feasting on me. My nerves spark and shoot like fireworks. I clutch his hair to stop myself from burning in sensation. It’s not until stars float before my eyes that I realize I’m not breathing. I gasp. Pant. He snarls against my intimate flesh and then pushes a finger deep inside me. Then another.
I fall back on the bed and give myself over to him. It’s a surreal experience, handing control of my pleasure to another person—to Zeke. At first, I’m too lost in my head. I can’t get myself there. But then he starts talking to me.
“Tell me, kitty cat.” He rubs his fingertips over my needy flesh. “Tell me what feels good.”
“I...”
“This?” He pinches my clit. “Or this.” He sucks on the little bud and curls his fingers inside me. “You gotta tell me what you need, baby.” I moan as he spreads my folds and flicks me hard with his tongue.
A bolt of hot pleasure spears through me. I arch into him, slam my hand on the back of his head, and hold him there.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Don’t stop that, Zeke.”
He makes a satisfied growl and continues his assault but doesn’t come up for air. He gives me what I need until I feel pleasure coiling, tension rising, and my climax building. A keening sound slips from my lips as the pressure keeps building. It’s building. Climbing. “Zeke,” I cry out. “I’m...”
He pulls off me.
The pressure dies. I whimper at the loss, glaring down my body at him, ready to demand why he stopped, but his cock is inside me before I can utter a word. He thrusts hard to the hilt, slamming the bed against the wall.
“I need to be inside you. Need to feel you come on my cock.”
His eyes open and lock onto me. I inhale at the desperate lust in them.
“I don’t know if I can this way,” I mumble. Never have I ever fucked a man like this until I orgasmed. It never mattered. Some women never do it.
“Yes, you fucking can.” His eyes flash with determination, and then he flexes his hips, hitting me hard. “For me, baby.”
I moan with every clash, but it’s not enough. He sees the self-disparagement in my eyes and leans over me, kisses me hard, and then changes the angle of his entry.
