Page 50 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You
Tears streak down her face, her makeup ruined, and it makes her all the more devastating.
Her hand slips beneath her dress. She’s touching herself, she enjoys it, filthy and rough, just as she always has.
I know.
I know her body better than I know my own.
“That’s it,” I rasp, the words fractured. “You take me so fucking well.”
Control shreds, heat rips through me. With a broken grunt I spill, the command rough in my throat. “Swallow it. All of it.”
And she does. Every last drop.
She lets me slip free with a pop, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.
The sight alone undoes me.
I catch her wrist and haul her up, her chest slamming against mine. My mouth claims hers, and the taste, her… me, both of us tangled, burns on my tongue.
My lips trail down her throat as I tug her dress off her shoulders, freeing her breasts.
No bra.
My mouth closes over one, tongue circling the hardened peak before I scrape it lightly with my teeth.
She moans, her fingers clutching at me, and I ravage her as her head tips back.
I spin her so her spine hits the tree and drop to my knees. One leg hooked over my shoulder, I spread her open and bury my face between her thighs.
I lick, bite, suck her clit until she shudders, breaking apart on my tongue.
Her leg slips from my shoulder as I stand, her knees trembling, barely holding her upright.
I fish a condom from my pocket, tear it open, roll it on, then grip her waist and haul her clean off the ground. One hard thrust drives me into her, buried to the hilt.
I fuck her slow at first, sliding in and out, savouring the way she clenches around me, then harder, rougher, until she’s bouncing against me, legs locked tight around my waist, her breasts brushing my mouth.
I take a nipple between my lips, biting down, and her moan rips through the night, muffled as she buries her face in my neck.
Her teeth sink into my skin and the pain only snaps what little control I had left.
“Come,” I grit. “Fucking come for me.”
She shatters around me, trembling in my hold, and I follow with a guttural release, spilling into the heat of her.
For a long moment I stay buried, unmoving, keeping her tight against me.
I ease back, drawing free, watching every inch slip away. For a long second we simply breathe against one another in the dark, the music a distant thrum through the trees.
Slowly I set her down, strip the condom off and knot it, then pull my trousers back into place. I settle the mask over my face once more and watch as she fusses with the hem of her dress.
She sticks her hand out at me, palm up. I lift a brow. She lets out a short, irritated breath.
“Panties?” she asks.
“No,” I say simply.
“I can’t walk without—” she begins, flustered.
