Page 81 of Among the Sins of my Father

I laugh again, moving to walk past him but he reaches out and catches my wrist. He looks at me with a need so dark, I have to swallow the small knot of nervousness that has lumped in my throat.

“Please,” he says. Only it doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like a command.

A small coil of lust unwinds inside. I want nothing more than to climb on top of him, but I’m scared of making his injuries worse.

“Jericho, you’re—”

He tugs, pulling me across the bed. He winces as he leans over and drags me on top of him. “Please,” he commands again. “I need you, Berkley. I need to know I’ve still got you. That you’re mine. There’s this feeling inside me, this fear that I’ve lost you that just won’t leave. It hurts more than any of my physical injuries and you’re the only one who can make it go away.”

“But what if—”

“Kiss me,” he growls. “Fucking kiss me.”

Leaning down, I gently press my lips to his, careful not to lean too hard against him, careful not to cause him any pain. But he winds his fingers into the back of my hair, and jerks me toward him, crushing our lips together. My chest falls to his and he lets out a low whistle of air as I squash his arm.

“See!” I peel myself from him. “I’m hurting you.”

“I don’t care. I need you more than I care about the pain. I would go through a million times worse just to see your smile. Now shut up and kiss me, Miss Berkley.”

Once I surrender, the lust swirls through my body uncontrollably. Our mouths battle. His hand fists my hair again, yanking back my head, his mouth continuing its assault down the pillar of my throat. He makes these growling noises, these noises of need and desperation and dominance.

“Take off your top,” he orders.

I don’t hesitate to obey. I surrender quickly and easily, my need as strong as his. Holding my breath, I anticipate his touch. But it doesn’t come.

He’s staring at me, his eyes drinking in the sight of my nakedness as though he’s starved. My nipples beads under his gaze and he takes a breath in, his bottom lip drawn in between his teeth.

When he does reach out to touch me, it’s to trace the pattern of the freckles flecked across my skin. My breasts seem heavier with the anticipation, begging for the stroke of his finger. Moisture pools between my legs and I wonder if he feels the heat of me spread across his waist. My ass is pressed to his groin and his cock pulses as though begging to be inside me.

“Touch yourself,” he orders.

“Jericho.” I burn with embarrassment.

“Cup your breasts. Play with your nipples. I want to watch.”

I ignore the blush creeping up my cheeks as I lift my hands, running them over my breasts, down my stomach and then back up to pinch my nipples.

Jericho moans. His cock pushes even harder against my ass. “Oh, the things I’m going to do to you when I’m healed.”

His eyes remain fixed on my hands, following their every move as I skim them over my body, toying and teasing, taking delight in the way his breath hitches when they touch my flesh in ways I know he wishes he could.

He lifts his knees, pressing them to my back and tipping me closer to him. His head lifts and his lips descend on my breast, drawing it into his mouth and sucking deeply.

“I cannot wait to teach you things, Miss Berkley. You will be my student and I will show you ways of wickedness even that dark mind of yours can’t imagine.”

I push against him, winding my fingers into his hair, encouraging him to take more of me into his mouth. His tongue twists around my nipple and my hands fall to his shoulders, digging my nails into his flesh, moans of ecstasy tumbling from me.

Then his tongue travels back up the column of my throat and our mouths collide again. His hand skims down my back and under the cheeks of my ass, encouraging me to lift. And then he guides me, adjusting himself so I sink onto his hard cock.

We stop kissing, our foreheads pressed together as I breathe in the feel of him inside me. He’s hard and smooth. He feels perfect.

My hands drop to his chest as I lift myself, rising up his length before sinking down onto him again.

“Good girl,” he growls and a flood of pleasure washes over me at his praise.

His legs fall back to the mattress, and I arch back, gripping his thighs and grinding myself onto him. His fingers brush over my knees, drawing small circles in time to the rotation of my hips.

The rolling of thunder rumbles outside.

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