Page 107 of Kings & Chaos

I followed it down the line of dark hair that trailed from the center of his model-perfect V down to his enormous dick, hard between his muscular thighs.

I stepped into the shower, half-wondering if he’d order me to leave, if he’d shove me away. Instead he pulled me against him and breathed my name like a prayer.

“Willa…”

He turned us both so my back was under the spray of the hot water, and I sighed with pleasure as it hit my skin.

He stared down at me, touching his finger to the crown at my throat, pressing like he wanted to brand my skin with it. “I’m not Drago. I’m not Rock.”

I looked up at him, reached up to hold his face in my hands. “I know.”

“I don’t… I don’t know how to be gentle.”

“I don’t need you to be gentle.” I locked my arms around his neck and pressed my body against his. “I don’t want you to be gentle.”

It wasn’t a lie. I wanted to extend the feeling I’d had plummeting into the quarry, dropping through the dark water.

I wanted to keep feeling alive.

He groaned and slammed me against the shower wall, the impact of the tile on my back sending shock waves through my body as he held my face in his hands and crushed my mouth under his.

His lips were an assault, his tongue an invading force that swept everything away — thought, reason, memory.

There was nothing left but his mouth and body against mine, and he tipped my head to take the kiss deeper, his hands moving from my face to my throat, squeezing the way I liked, just a little, just enough to make me wetter.

I smoothed my palms over his shoulders, sighing at the feel of his skin under my hands.

Finally.

He bit my lip, hard enough to make me gasp, and his dark laughter filled the shower. “I told you I wouldn’t be gentle. Besides, you had that coming.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I said, mimicking his words to me the night I’d bitten him in Dean Giordana’s office.

He growled and bent his head to my tits, pulling one pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking until I cried out, the sound echoing off the bathroom’s marble walls.

His hard dick was a tease against my thigh, close enough to my throbbing cunt to be a promise, and I reached down to stroke his shaft and was rewarded with a deep groan of pleasure.

I used my other hand to thread my fingers through his wet hair, tugging until he growled again, pulling away from my tit and pivoting to slam me onto the tiled bench built into the shower.

“Lean back and spread your legs,” he ordered.

I couldn’t obey fast enough. Every nerve in my body tingled, my body on high alert for pleasure, anticipation coursing through my veins.

He knelt between my knees and ran his fingers through my wet folds. “I’ve wanted to see you, to taste you, for fucking ever.”

He leaned in and ran his fingers from one end of my pussy to the other, and I sighed and closed my eyes as he buried his face between my thighs.

His tongue was inside me, fucking me while he stroked my clit with his fingers, and I moved my hips with the motion, all the tension from the last few hours ready to spill out of my body in the mother of all orgasms.

“Goddamn, you taste good.” I opened my eyes and the sight of him between my thighs, the pure desire on his face, was almost enough to send me over the edge.

I reached between my legs and grabbed his hair and he growled and slid three fingers inside me, closing his mouth over my clit.

I watched as he ate me out like a wild animal, his fingers plunging inside me, his mouth sucking and lapping at my clit while I moved my hips. It was fucking sexy as hell, the image together with the sensations in my body working to bring the orgasm closer, barreling toward me like a freight train.

He reached up to pinch one of my nipples — hard — and I closed my eyes as I braced for impact, then fell over the edge.

I shuddered against his face, cursing into the steamy room, a string of only partially intelligible demands filling the bathroom as I ordered him not to stop.

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