Page 63 of Scarlet Mark
I needed to hear that again.
Right now.
She squirmed in protest, the pleasure too much, but I pushed her through it, knowing she could handle it, knowing sheneededit. The best kind of torment. A torture every woman should endure.
And oh, how Amara endured it.
“Killian,” she pleaded, weeping, her beautiful mouth parted on a pant lost to the roar of the engines outside. But I could feel her convulsing, her euphoria sweet on my tongue. She came apart a second time, her nails digging into my scalp.
I grinned, debating a third time when she yanked sharply at my hair, her thighs quivering around me.
“Too much?” I asked, my lips brushing her swollen clit.
“I… I want…” She shuddered, her head falling back again, her lips parting on a groan. “Fuck.”
“Is that a request, sweetheart?” I chuckled against her damp flesh, giving her another long, thorough lick before sliding off the bed.
She whimpered, her hands reaching blindly for me. I caught one and brought it to my lips, nipping the pad of her finger. “You still owe me a blow job, kitten.”Preferably one without the needle-jabbing climax.
Her smoky eyes lifted to mine, intrigue dilating her pupils. I unbuttoned my shirt while she watched, slowly revealing myself to her devilish gaze. Appreciation colored her features, mingling with the afterglow of her orgasms and painting the most erotic portrait I’d ever seen.
Long lashes, plump lips, flushed cheeks, and an anticipatory gleam that had my cock pulsing against my zipper.
“Take off my pants,” I told her, needing her hands on me.
She crawled to the edge of the bed, far too slowly, and went to her knees before me. Her lips pressed against mine while her hands went to my belt. No arguments. No comments. Just pure compliance, and it was sexy as hell.
I returned her kiss while I finished removing my shirt, then fisted my hand in her thick hair. Her nimble fingers unfastened my pants, unfaltering, her actions trained. The wool loosened around my hips, falling to my thighs as she pushed them down. I kicked them off, along with my shoes, and slid my grip to the back of her neck.
She palmed me through my boxer briefs, her touch searing and not nearly enough. “Boxers, too,” I urged against her mouth.
“Yes, sir.” She sucked on my lip, her nails scraping across my lower abdomen. And then she did exactly as I requested, freeing my cock and guiding the fabric down my legs.
She pressed against me, her body hot and needy, a purr tickling her throat. Her nickname—one I’d never assigned to anyone else—couldn’t be more perfect. She really was a feisty kitten. And I fucking loved it.
“Do you want me to kneel on the floor?” she asked, her mouth hot against mine. “Or in another position?”
My grasp around her nape tightened, the questions undoing something inside me. Her supplication was a gift, but I no longer wanted to fuck her mouth. I wanted to fuckher. To make this a joint experience, not a solitary one. This would be the night she remembered for years to come, the one she’d recall when she pleasured herself.
I wanted her to dream of me.
Indefinitely.
“Lie down.” I released her, bending to remove my socks and to find the strip of condoms in my wallet. Her auburn strands fanned out around her as she sprawled out on the bed, her come-hither expression making my lips curl. “Vixen.”
“Assassin,” she countered.
I crawled over her, nuzzling her nose. “I prefer when you called me sir.”
She nipped my lower lip. “I’m wet for you, sir.”
“Needy little minx.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Talkative procrastinator.”
“Keep insulting me,” I murmured, rolling the condom on slowly, enjoying the taunting nature between us. “See what happens.”
“Nothing, apparently.” She hooked her calf around the back of my thigh. “You just keep speaking.”
