Page 85 of The Art of Obsession
I take her hair, fisting it around my hand and jerking her head back to give me her neck once more. After scraping my teeth along her neck, I lick along the curve of her throat until I arrive at the mark. She hisses as I kiss it, tracing my lips across it.
“Can I see the sun after tonight?” she whimpers, igniting my blood.
“The stars,” I murmur against the mark.
“The sun.”
“Stars and the moon. Take it or leave it.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
After a pause with me thrusting hard into her, I lock eyes with her. “Are you going to try to escape?”
She rolls her eyes. Naughty girl. “Depends.”
“On…?”
“On how beautiful the moon and stars are. And your mansion.”
I smirk. “How do you know I have a mansion?”
She winces as I lift her, knowing how I’m about to—slam her back down on my cock. Fuck, she’s wet. Creaming my dick.
Digging her nails into my biceps, Everleigh deadpans with me. “Someone like you isn’t going to hole up in a shack with a high-tech, highly-secure exhibit like this underground.”
“Clever girl.”
“Give me a hint.”
I tip her onto her back, seize her wrists, and thrust hard and deep enough for her to moan. Smiling to one side, I rub my lips across her brow and say, “Gothic.”
“Revival?”
Leaning in, I purr along her ear, “Neo.”
“Ungh, I’ll forgive you. But talk dirty to me, Cal!”
Fuck, I love this girl. “Blending Gothic with modern elements.”
She clenches tighter around me, the strong historian responding to my information.
“Pointed arches. Spires. Long as my cock.”
“Oh!”
She lifts her hips, arching her back, responding more. Sliding her chemise strap down her shoulder, I lower my mouth to her breast and capture her nipple, suckling and circling my tongue around the bud before murmuring, “Big as a small castle.” I flick the erect nipple.
“Fuck, Cal!”
“I incorporate green elements,” I say, scraping the taut flesh. “I include solar panels and rainwater collection systems for sustainable energy use.” Jerking out to my crown, I slam back into her to my hips, savoring her shriek. “Vaulted ceilings, Little Quill.”
“Cal, oh, oh, yes!” Her inner muscles flutter.
“Arched windows. Stained glass, dredged from a medieval-era monastery.”
“Yes!” She comes, her upper half lifting off the bed as she cries out in rapture, convulsing all around me. I jerk, snap, and bury myself to the hilt, unleashing everything into her.
