Page 93 of Tempting Little Thief

“I should punish you for what you did tonight,” I force past clenched teeth, eyes rolling back as my thighs clench in warning, finale number two right fucking there, begging to be let loose into its home. “But this pussy is too good, so tight and warm and mine. I can’t, and to know no one’s ever had you like this … raw, heat to fucking heat …”

Not yet, not yet, not yet …

I hold off, drawing blood from my cheek. “Imma need you to give me one more.” I bend, folding my back over hers, using her shoulder as a pillow as both my hands drive beneath her.

My hips bump furiously, and I pinch her clit, rolling it between my fingers as I tweak her nipples, tugging and pinching in rapid succession.

“I can’t, I can’t …” she whines, body taut.

I bite her shoulder. “You can. You will.”

I shove in hard, again and again, and she gasps, shaking.

“Bastian—”

“Give me what I earned,” I cut her off.

She breaks, and my cock loves it, letting go as she flutters around it.

Pushing in as far as I can, I jerk, twitching as she falls to her stomach, and I give her my weight. She must not mind it because her hand manages to come up, loosely threading into my hair.

We lie like that, naked and piled together for several minutes before I roll off, lift her and tuck her into me.

Her body is dead weight, limp to my touch and slick with sweat. Her hair is wrecked, makeup smeared and lipstick all the fuck over.

“Why are you smirking like that?” she rasps.

“You’re good and fucked, and you look it.”

“And you like that.”

I climb over her again, lowering my body onto hers. “I fuckinglovethat.”

Her eyes hold mine and something passes between us, and while neither of us says a word, we lean in, in the same moment, our lips meeting in the middle.

The kiss is slower than any other we’ve had, almost like we’re exploring, memorizing. Searching? For what, I don’t know, but I’m thinking we already found it, and you know what they say …

Finders keepers.

And losers can get fucked.

Chapter 16

Bass

She sits on the edge of the bed, slipping her spiky heels on, her hair falling forward, hiding her from me.

Not okay with that.

My hand comes up, pushing her long golden locks over her other shoulder, so there isn’t a spot on her face I can’t see.

Her head turns to peek at me, eyes gliding along my face. “You do that a lot.”

“What?”

“Touch my hair.” She watches me for a moment, gaze settling along the bruising on my face. “Your eye is turning purple.”

“You should see the other guys … plural.”

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