Page 102 of Severed Rivalry
“Just after midnight.”
That’s odd. I’m usually asleep by now, sure, but in a new-to-me house and a new-to-me bed, I’d think it would take longer. “Liam took the sofa and told me he wouldn’t share.”
The humor is gone. “What?”
“Don’t be mad at him.”
“I’m not.”
He so is.
“Are you mad that I’m here?”
A hand at my belly flattens me to my back, and I look up into Cian’s shadowed face.
“I’m mad you’d want to share a sofa with my brother rather than sleep where you belong.”
“In your bed?”
He huffs an exasperated sigh. “At my side.”
Oh.
“I need to know that I’m reading this right, Angel. I thought we were both in this. The past is behind us and the future lies ahead of us, but that future is me and you. Renée, too, any other kids we choose. Then grandkids. If we live long enough, great-grands. But that means you and I are in the same house and the same bed, and I’m in you. Are we on the same page?”
I nod. “We are.” I stretch a hand up to his jaw, the previously injured side, rubbing a finger there. I cup his cheek. “I’m sorry, Ci. I didn’t want to assume.”
His mouth hits mine, and his lips kiss their way across my cheek to my ear. “Assume, baby. Please fucking assume.”
He rolls his pelvis at my thigh, and I moan, reaching between us to the waistband of his sleep pants and trailing my fingers across the skin just inside. “These need to come off, Ci.”
He freezes. His eyes are glued to mine, nothing but moonlight to highlight and shadow his handsome face. “You sure?”
“Never been more sure of anything in my life.” I shimmy my sleep shorts and panties down my legs and flick them somewhere under the covers.
“You unwrapped my gift.” He pouts and hovers above me, lifting his hips so I can push his pants down, first with my hands, then with my feet to the outside of his legs sliding them ever so slowly, positioning him right where I need him.
“Angel,” he growls.
My hips rise, seeking his. “Need you, love.”
He dips his face to mine, taking my mouth thoroughly and deeply. One hand slowly trails down my side and over my hip, rounding my thigh. He butterflies my leg wide and uses his fingers to trail little patterns toward my center, never quite getting where I need him to go.
His other hand mirrors the action, torturing me with a slow lift of my tank and a teasing circle around my nipple, beforegoing straight down my belly, veering at the last second, to my thigh, pulling me wide on that side.
His hips settle. His hot hard length is so close and still too damn far away. He rubs the underside of his dick against my clit, and I gasp, lifting my hips, but finding no relief.
When I reach between us to guide him to me, he smiles and pulls back. Kissing his way down my chest, he settles at my core, his wide shoulder holding me in place before he drops his head and licks my center from my opening to my clit. And again. And again.
He fucks me with his tongue, flicking my clit, and moaning as if the pleasure is all his. The vibration runs straight up my center, liquifying my insides, making me desperate.
Lick. Flick. Suck. Moan.
“Fuck, Angel. You taste better than I remember.”
Lick. Flick. Suck.
The pace, the enthusiasm. All my inhibitions are gone, falling away until only pleasure remains.
