And holy God, the sound that leaves my throat is nothing human.
His free hand, warm palm comes up my stomach, rough and calloused, mapping the curve of my waist, the soft skin beneath my ribs.When he cups my breast, squeezing with a possessive growl, my back bows clean off the bed.
His mouth falls open at the sight, hunger dragging across his features as he lowers his head and sucks the skin just above my nipple, his tongue ring catching on the peak in a cold shock that rips a curse from my lips.Then he sucks on the ring spearing my flesh, twirling the metal with his own.My nails dig harder into him because I can’t hold onto anything else.
He drags his mouth down my sternum, stops just above where I want him most, breathing hot against my skin.
“If I put my mouth on your pussy,” he rasps.“You won’t walk tomorrow.”
I grab his hair and yank his face up to mine.
“Royal.Please.”
That’s the moment he breaks.
Fully.
Completely.
The impatient sound that vibrates coming from him goes straight through my core.He pulls away, the cool air hits me first, then the heat of his breath.
He looks down me, at my pussy, like he’s making an introduction.
“I’ve never seen anything so perfect or so damn dangerous.”
His thumbs spread me open, my lips, slow, reverent, filthy, exposing every wet, trembling part of me.
Groan rumbling through his chest, deep.He lowers his head, tongue ring catching the light, and then his mouth is on my pussy, hot and demanding, sealing over me like he’s starving.The first stroke of his tongue steals the air straight out of my lungs.
My back bends off the bed as I feel the metal ball in his tongue on my most sensitive part.I hear a sound tear out of me.I don’t care what the motel walls hear.
Royal growls against me, his tongue and the ring working slow at first, then harder, dirtier, like he’s devouring every shaky breath I feed him.Every drop of sticky desire he coxes my body to make.
His black painted nails dig into my thighs, dragging my pussy closer to his open mouth, forcing every tremor through me to hit his lips.
Biker sucks my clit, gentle then punishing, alternating strokes that send electricity up my spine until my hips are lifting helplessly against his face.Every time my body jerks, he groans louder, his tongue ring sliding against me with obscene hunger.
He's relentless.Worshiping my sex.His mouth moves like a knife and he’s carving his name into me with every stroke.
He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes as I come apart under him, watching every second.His lined eyes narrow, his lower lip drops, revealing his insatiable hunger.I read the word impossible tattooed on his face, for the first time like it’s a lie.
When I collapse back onto the bed, sweating and trembling, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.He kisses me again, slow this time, like he’s tasting everything he just did to me and wants me to taste it too.
I do.However, my taste on his tongue doesn’t hit like it should.Should feel like I won a battle.But it doesn’t.
Because I’m terrified.Because I want more.Everything that’s impossible.
The motel room hums with the leftover heat of us.And Royal’s wrestling with his own loyalties.He stands abruptly, muttering, “I need a minute,” like the words hurt him.
The shower roars to life a second later.He leaves the bathroom door open.Steam curls into the room, thick and inviting.I shouldn’t look.I shouldn’t care.
But I do.
Through the cracked door, I see his silhouette through the plastic curtain.Broad shoulders.Muscles flexing under the spray.His hands braced on the cheap shower walls as he bows his head under the water like he’s praying or punishing himself.
The sight drags a whimper out of me before I can swallow it.
He goes still.
