Page 127 of Tangled Kisses
Her teeth graze my thigh, sharp enough to make me hiss. Then her nails rake down the muscle, leaving fire in their wake. She pulls back just enough for her eyes to meet mine, dark and unyielding.
“Not good enough.” Her voice is possession and command all in one. “Show me.”
My throat burns. She’s not just touching me—she’s stripping me bare. Giving me what I’ve never had. Not the illusion of control from a client session, but something real. My desire. My need. My ruin.
I finally thread my fingers through her hair, guiding her, and she doesn’t flinch. She moans, the sound vibrating against melike she’s been waiting for me to finally take. That single sound shreds the last of my restraint.
She takes me deeper, throat flexing around me, and a guttural growl rips out of me.
“Holy fuck, yes. Just like that. Don’t stop,” I grunt, hips jerking. The sounds tearing from me aren’t polished—they’re guttural curses, desperate prayers to the goddess wrecking me bone by bone. “Please.”
Her eyes glint as she pulls off, her lips glistening, tongue darting out to savor the taste of me with a slow, deliberate sweep. A shiver rips down my spine at the sight. At the claim.
“I want this. Every part of you,” she whispers, voice husky, reverent.
And then she dives back down, relentless. Her mouth seals around me, sucking me deeper, harder, until the room spins and I’m lost. My head thrashes against the pillow, my hands claw at the sheets, everything inside me breaking loose.
When release rips through me, it’s raw, violent, years of hunger detonating at once.
And all I can think as my vision whites out is that this isn’t a performance. This is hers. She owns me now.
Reese crawls up my body and brushes her lips against mine, sweet and smug. “I think someone enjoyed that.”
“Best ever,” I murmur, scraping a hand over my scalp to ground myself. “Shit, I can barely think right now.”
“That’s the point.” She smiles against my mouth, but when she starts to pull back, instinct roars to life. No, we’re not done. Not even close.
Both my hands slide under her thighs. I haul her up, breath hitching as I drag her higher over me. For one heartbeat she freezes, that damn flicker of hesitation in her eyes.
“My turn.” My voice is rough and gutted. “Ride my face, beautiful. Or I’ll tie you up and make you.”
That’s all it takes. Her pupils blow wide, her body giving in as she settles onto me.
The first taste is ruin. Heat, drenched, musky sweetness—pure addiction coating my tongue. I groan into her, devouring like a man starved. She shudders, thighs trembling against my palms as I pin her down, holding her there.
Her hips roll, grinding into me, and I grip harder, anchoring her while I lick into her, tongue stroking deep, lips sealing over the swollen peak of her clit. She moans, not delicate but raw and needy—the sound tearing through me like gasoline to fire.
I can’t stop. I won’t. Every breath I take is drenched in her, every sound she makes another lash across my chest, dragging me deeper under.
She grips the sides of my head, pressing me tighter, and I growl against her skin, my voice rough with obsession. “Ride me, belleza. Take it. Take everything.”
And when she finally breaks, screaming my name, I damn near come apart all over again, drowning in her taste, in her power, in her.
I’m gutted. My face is wet, beard slick, jaw aching, body strung out, and still, it’s not enough. Not nearly fucking enough.
I wipe the blanket across my face, then haul her up, dragging her across the bed like she weighs nothing. She gasps, half a laugh caught in her throat, until I spin her, chest pressed to the dresser, eyes catching mine in the mirror.
She’s perfection, and I could come again just looking at her.
“I need to be inside you.” I fumble with the condom, my hands clumsy with need. One roll, one second—and I’m there. Surging in deep, burying myself to the hilt in one savage thrust.
Her cry splits the air, mouth open, eyes wide in the mirror. Watching her like this—watching her take me—it’s the filthiest, holiest thing I’ve ever seen.
My hand grips her hip, my other hand a necklace around her throat, claiming her as mine with every thrust. She shudders, body yielding like she’s been waiting for this all along.
“Look,” I snarl, rutting into her so hard the dresser rattles against the wall. “Look at yourself, belleza. Look at the way you’re made for me.”
She clenches down, a helpless whimper spilling from her, and I lose it. My strokes turn savage, relentless, her body slamming into the wood with every stroke.
