Page 101 of Thorns of Blood
His hand went straight to my throat, but he didn’t grip hard. Just a light hold of possession as he kissed the shell of my ear. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in me. Quite the opposite: I loved every second of it.
He moved the hand at my throat down, dragging his knuckles across my collarbone.
“I should have taken you eight years ago,” he muttered, almost as if he was speaking to himself.
“You should have,” I whispered, my voice catching.“But it would seem saving me wasn’t in anyone’s cards.”
I could see a surprise flicker in his eyes and the truth lay between us. The admission that I wanted to be saved eight years ago. That I hoped for it for so long.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “How can you forgive me for not taking you away?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Like you said, it’s in the past now. There’s no changing it. No sense in reliving it.” He cocked his head and slid his hand up my neck before making a pass of his thumb along the line of my lips. “I want you.” Every part of me woke up, even the parts I’d thought were dead. “Right here and now. That’s all I know.”
Snatching my face between his palms, he kissed me. His tongue commanded mine, devouring. When he broke the kiss, I fisted his shirt, begging him to come back.
I grabbed hold of him, hooking my ankles around his back and anchoring them, clutching him as if my life depended on it.
“I want you,” I whispered, our frenzied breaths intertwining as he peered at me.
“You have me. Every single piece of me is yours,” he remarked in an almost lazy tone before he dropped his mouth over mine again. Owning it, my body, and every emotion.
His hand went to my thigh and he squeezed before his palm found my center. I was so wet that my arousal had soaked through my panties.
“My wife is needy,” he said against my lips, and I nodded frantically.
He backed away, his eyes never leaving mine as he worked the buttons of his shirt free then discarded it on the floor. “I need your panties gone. Want to see you naked and spread out on our bed.”
He palmed his belt buckle and snapped it off in one move, a crackle like electricity zipping through the air as the leather was pulled through the hoops.
I hooked my thumbs under the waistband of my panties, shoving them down. The belt unraveled from his hand and fell to the ground with a loud clunk, and he grabbed hold of my ankles and spread them wide open.
For a moment, he remained still while staring at me, naked and on display. Then he resumed stripping his clothes. Once he was gloriously naked, he took his thick cock in his tattooed hand and tugged—once, twice—before he let go of himself.
His knees came to rest on the mattress, spreading open my legs even farther.
“I’ve been dreaming about tasting you,” he said in a husky tone as he dipped his head between my thighs. He ran his fingers up toward the apex of my thighs, sending need pulsing to my center. He slid a finger along my seam, closing his eyes for a moment.
He settled there, drawing my pussy straight to his mouth, and I couldn’t stifle the cry that left my lips. He kissed my soaking entrance softly. A full-mouthed kiss. His tongue slid up my seam, and the moans coming from him, as if he was enjoying this as much as I was, nearly sent me over the edge.
He guided my legs over his shoulders to better bury his face between my thighs and I brought my hands to his thick hair, fisting it. He pushed two fingers inside my tight walls while devouring me and I began grinding against him, his facial hair tickling my sensitive skin, spurring me on even more as I chased the end even though I didn’t want it to come yet.
“That’s right,” he purred against my clit. “Fuck my face.”
His dark words vibrated against my skin. I kept hold of his hair as I did as he instructed and before long, white-hot pleasure shot me and I spiraled. I cried out his name, over and over again. Before I had a chance to get my bearings, he hovered over me, my tits smashing against his sculpted chest and my hands above my head.
“You ready for me, wife?” He skated his palm over my scarred stomach then slid a finger between my legs, and I shuddered.
“Yes.”
He grabbed hold of my hips, his cock at my entrance. “You sure?”
“Yes, please don’t make me wait,” I pleaded.
He hooked my ankles around his hips before setting a hand alongside my body. This close, I could feel his heart hammering wildly as his crown rested against my throbbing entrance. Then he slammed into me in one fast movement.
I gasped and he stilled.
Emotions rattled against my ribcage, demanding to be let out, and for the first time ever, it felt like a good thing. Like I hadbeen numb and locked in the dark for so long that this felt like being pulled into the light.
