Page 130 of Undeniably Corrupt
Her lips find mine, tentative at first, then with growing certainty and a touch of desperation. My hands move from her waist to her thighs, feeling the muscles relax beneath my touch. I trace lazy circles with my thumbs, each one moving slightly higher than the last.
My breathing grows heavier by the moment as Liora’s hands travel up to my hair, her fingers creating pleasant shivers that skate down my spine. I pull back just enough to see her face—the flush spreading across her cheeks, the slight part of her lips, the way her eyes have gone dark and deep. Time seems suspended in the space between one heartbeat and the next.
“I love you in this light,” I tell her because it’s true. Moonlight is spilling through the window and catching her just right, making her look like an angel. My angel.
“Just in this light?” she challenges, the corner of her mouth quirking up.
“In every light. In darkness. In the spaces between.”
Her expression softens at this, the playfulness giving way to something more profound. I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. She leans into the touch, her eyes half-closing.
“Vander,” she whispers, my name becoming something sacred in her mouth.
My hands slide down her neck, over her shoulders, and down her arms. I take her wrists gently, guiding them to rest on the counter beside her hips. Then I lean in, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my lips.
The T-shirt she’s wearing—my shirt—has risen, exposing more of her thighs. I trace the hem with one finger, a question in the touch. She may say this is what she wants, but I need togo slow. I need to be sure. But at the same time, I need to touch her. I need to feel her and be inside of her and know that she’s here with me and okay. She answers by reaching down and pulling the shirt over her head in one fluid motion, then drop it beside her on the counter.
I’ve seen her like this countless times, but the sight still steals my breath. She doesn’t move to cover herself or pull me closer. She simply watches me, allowing me to look my fill. Damn, I’m going to get her so fucking pregnant soon. The thought has my cock jerking, anxious to fill her up.
“You’re staring,” she accuses after a moment, but I hear the pleasure in her voice.
“I’m appreciating,” I correct, letting my gaze travel slowly over every curve and plane. And plotting, but she doesn’t have to know that part.
When I finally reach for her again, it’s with reverence. My hands map the landscape of her body. The dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, the soft underside of her breasts. She sighs, her head tipping back slightly, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat.
I lean in to press my lips to her collarbone, then lower, tracing a path that makes her breath catch. Her hands find my shoulders, fingers digging in just enough to ground us both as she shivers against me.
“Cold?” I ask against her skin.
“Not where it matters,” she replies, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
I straighten, watching her eyes close as my hand slides between us. Her legs part further, an invitation I’ve never been able to refuse. The first touch of my fingers on her pussy makes her gasp, her eyes widening before fluttering closed once more. I can’t tear my gaze from her face as my fingers move in slow, deliberate circles on her clit. I’m utterly enraptured. Captivated. In love.
Her hands clutch at my shoulders, my arms, anywhere she can reach. I steady her with my free hand at the small of her back, drawing her closer to the edge of the counter, to me.
“Look at me,” I whisper, and her eyes open, hazy with pleasure but focused entirely on mine. I can’t get enough of her like this. The slick heat of her cunt beneath my fingers, the flush spreading across her chest, the way her lips part with each quickening breath. I can see everything she feels written on her face, in the tension of her body, in the grip of her hands, in the wetness coating my fingers.
“Vander,” she pants, a warning and a plea as I increase my pace, circling faster and pressing in deeper. But it’s not enough for her. She needs more. She needs me to shut her brain off for her. I adjust the pressure, the pace, watching as her expression shifts from pleasure to something close to disbelief. Her thighs tremble, and I wrap my arm more securely around her waist, holding her steady as she begins to come apart.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her, pressing my forehead to hers. “I’ve always got you. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”
Her hands grip tighter as my fingers circle faster, moans and whimpers fleeing her sweet lips. Her body shudders against mine, her breath coming in sharp, quick gasps against my cheek. I don’t stop. I don’t slow down. I guide her through each wave of her orgasm until she pushes at my hand, too sensitive to continue.
For a moment, we stay like that, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air. I bring my finger back to her clit in a featherlike touch that almost immediately makes her shudder and moan lightly. Her heartbeat pulses against my chest, rapid and strong, and thank fuck. That pounding is everything I need to feel right now.
Her hands move to my face, cradling it with unexpected tenderness. “Your turn,” she whispers, and the promise in those two words sends heat coursing through me.
But I shake my head slightly. “Not yet.” I want more of this. More of her pleasure, more of the way she looks at me in the aftermath, more of the trust that allows her to be so vulnerable, more of everything with her.
I kiss her now, deep and slow, until she relents and melts against me. My hand finds its way between her legs again, and I slip two fingers into her. She sighs into my mouth, her body already responding. I feel her hands at the waistband of my pajama pants, tugging impatiently.
“Patience,” I murmur against her lips.
“Never,” she replies, and I feel her smile.
But she allows me to set the pace, her hands moving to my shoulders instead, dragging along my chest and abs until she returns my arm and cups her tattoo. I take my time, slowly pumping in and out of her, building her up until she’s a shuddering mess. Until she can’t take anymore before she comes again, except I want to feel it on my cock. I slip my pants down my hips, line myself up, and push in.
And god, how does she always feel this good? Better than anything ever has. My world narrows to the point where we’re connected, my eyes glued to the way her body holds my cock in.
