Page 32 of Depraved
She grins like I’m joking, but I’m not.
Elena climbs back onto the bed between my legs on all fours, leaving herself disappointingly clothed. She leans onto her elbows and sticks her ass in the air behind her, in the perfect position for doggie. I can see the lush curves of each ass cheek from her current position, and the sight alone makes my balls tighten.
I wonder if her butt is still red from the spanking she got.
I wonder if she’s wet from it—I bet she is.
I stop all wondering when her tongue touches the base of my dick. The sensation that shoots up through me is liquid sunshine.
Yes.
My eyelids flutter closed for half a second, enjoying the warm wet press of her mouth. But then I force myself to look again because I don’t want to miss a moment. I look down to watch the way her eyelashes feather. Or how her cheeks hollow out when she sucks on me so hard that my toes involuntarily curl. God, that’s fucking hot.
“Goddamn,” I exclaim when she blades her tongue like I showed her.
She doesn’t reply. Just smiles and goes faster.
I can see down a little bit of that conservative cowl neck shirt she’s wearing, enough to see just a hint of cleavage. My eyes keep darting between the curve of her breasts and the way my dick stretches her mouth. I can’t decide what’s hotter—the hints of naughty lace I keep glimpsing or the full-on slut show she puts on for me when she takes my dick out and then licks it from root to tip.
My chest tightens when she swallows me back down, pressing me even further into her hot, tight mouth. She’s pushing herself, taking me as deep as she can, and it’s fucking unreal.
She sets my pulse racing, and my vision tunnels. Things around me become blurred, like I’m on the track of an Indie 500 race and focused on the finish line.
When Elena’s hand skates across my balls, they tighten up. My lower abdomen heats, and I have to resist the urge to grab her face and pump my hips. God, she’s so good at this. She’s so good and so perfect.
“Almost there,” I mutter. “Can I come?”
I ask for permission; I often do—because that’s how we operate, and I love hearing her say, “God, yes, Jonah, just fucking come already,” in a fierce, wild tone that tells me I’ve taken her beyond her own breaking point.
This time, she doesn’t answer but deliberately waggles her bladed tongue, forcing me to fist my hands and try to hold back, to ride the edge but not go over. It’s delicious torture—the kind only my sweet mate knows how to give me.
“Elena,” I’m about to warn her that I’m going to come without permission, but she quickly understands.
She releases the pressure around my dick, opening her mouth and interrupting the rhythm to say, “Come on my tits. I want your scent all over me if I have to leave for a few days.” She whips her shirt off over her head, leaving only her lacy bra. Then she pulls the cups down and tucks them under her breasts, pushing the small mounds out and up.
My kryptonite. I love her tits. I love the feel of them in my hands, the soft fullness of that skin, her rosy nipples, the way they feel on my tongue. I’m captivated by the sight of them and the fact that she’s going to let me paint them.
A secret, dark part of me wants to rub it into her skin after, use it to circle her nipples. But I’m too embarrassed to ask for that, and a hot blush spreads across my neck. I can feel it crawl over my cheeks.
Her face lifts until it’s level with mine, and she cups my cheek, expression serious and intent as she says, “If you can’t mark me with a bite, you’re going to scent-mark me, Jonah. I want you to know that I’m yours just as much as you’re mine.”
My wolf gives an excited yip as my heart speeds up, stunned and thrilled.
She’s mine.
Mine.
Impulsively, I grab the back of her head and pull her to me for a kiss. I can’t help it. The fact that she wants to give me what she can, the fact that other shifters will scent me on her drives me mad.
I kiss her fiercely, and my hand drops from her head to her breast so that I can palm and pinch her nipple the way I know makes her quake. I tease her, swallowing each moan she makes as if it was hot chocolate. It’s just as warm and sweet as it pours down my throat.
God, I love her. Tip of my nose to the bottom of my toes, just like grandma’s old saying.
I move slightly, intending to roll us to our sides so that I can play with her a bit. But her thighs clamp down around my waist and prevent more movement.
The moonlight drifts in through the window, softly lighting up one side of my mate’s face as she denies me. “No. Jonah. This is all about you tonight. This is about me showing you how much I love you—with my hands, my mouth, my pussy, maybe even with my ass.”
If that isn’t every guy’s wet dream, I don’t know what is.
