Page 121 of Rebel Revenge

“Put it on, Pix.”

A shiver of anticipation and the dominant tone in his voice rolled through me. “Right here?”

“Pumpkins belong in the kitchen, not the bedroom.”

I pulled off my T-shirt and went to put the costume over my head, but his frown stopped me. “What?”

“Since when do pumpkins have underwear? Take it all off, Pix.”

“It’s the middle of the day!”

He shrugged. “When you got a craving, you got a craving. Off.”

I threw my shirt at his face playfully, but he just peeled it off, his gaze sweeping across my cleavage and bare stomach. He watched every movement while I took off my leggings and panties, and finally, my bra.

“Happy?” I asked him in challenge as I stood stark naked in the kitchen.

“As a pig in shit. You should never wear clothes.”

“I’d get cold. Pass me the pumpkin.”

He picked it up and tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the floor somewhere near the refrigerator. “Nah. Like you better just like this.”

He closed in on me, leaning down to kiss me hard. His tongue stroked against mine, demanding, while heat rushed to my core at being so completely naked while he was still fully dressed.

And maybe a little at the fact all the windows were open, and Kian and Vaughn would be back at any minute.

I squeezed my thighs together.

Fang kissed me searingly deep, a promise of all the things he could do to me. His tongue was a wicked tease, flicking and tasting, promising once he used it on my pussy, I would forget my own name.

“Need to taste you,” he murmured. “Every inch of you. Let me.”

“Yes,” I whispered over his lips, a real need for him to get between my thighs starting up.

But the man lived to torture me. He ran his lips down my neck, taking little sucks of my skin as he went. He pressed kisses across my breasts until he got to my nipples.

On his knees, his head was the perfect height for playing with them, and he took his time, sucking one into his mouth, his fingers toying with the other. He licked and rolled my nipples until I was so horny, I wondered if I could come from nipple stimulation alone.

With him on his knees for me the way he was, it was a serious possibility.

I ran my fingers through his hair, stroking it back from his face and pulling out the tie at the nape of his neck to let it fall free. God, this man was beautiful. I had no idea how other women didn’t see it. How they didn’t see the way his eyes devoured you. The way his stare lit up every part of me. The way his scars and tattoos and piercings only added to the whole bad-boy appeal.

Bad on the outside. So freaking good on the inside.

It dawned on me, maybe other people didn’t see him like that because he didn’t show them that side of him.

I was grateful for it every time.

His lips trailed down my belly, and I could barely breathe in anticipation of him getting to the spot I needed him most.

He didn’t disappoint. He never did. It was like he lived to go down on me, and he took his sweet-ass time, prodding his tongue between my folds, tasting my arousal, coating his lips and beard in it without a care. The scratch of his bristles against my sensitive flesh only heightened the sensation, the soft lick of his tongue soothing and sweet.

An orgasm started up its warning signals, and he felt them before I did. He pulled away and kissed my mound. “Turn around.”

I whimpered at him stopping, but he was insistent.

“Turn around. I’m tasting every inch of you.”

---