“It’s always only been you,” I admit because it’s true, and if there’s any chance that he’s second-guessing himself like I am, he needs to hear it. I want every part of him—his tortured soul and scary demons and broken past. I want to be the person who shows him that fractured shouldn’t mean forsaken.
He presses his lips to mine, cradling my face as our tongues waltz to a passionate cadence that swarms every cell of my makeup. Tasting myself in his mouth only solidifies the depth of this zealous dance. It’s the out-of-bounds freedom I felt the first time he kissed me—the rush of cliff diving and felonies, an escape from all that’s simple and expected to seize the illicit prize.
Ty is Prohibition in the flesh—the drink of defiance and the spirit that should have never been outlawed. Which is the wild and frenzied rebellion my family business is built upon.
Proof that he was meant to be mine.
Wrapping my arms around his trim waist, I am abundantly aware of my nakedness grazing his fully dressed physique—taut and ripped, but thoroughly clad nonetheless. That filthy visual only elevates this scene though.
He breaks our connection, clutching my chin with a demanding grip as his forehead drops to mine. “I am using every morsel of self-control I have so that I don’t pounce on you like a rabid animal.Yet.But I have never tasted anything so sweet. You’re fucking addictive. I need to feast on this delectable cunt. Now. Understood?”
Good God, that gravelly, controlled delivery, accompanied by his feral expression, shouts how crazed he is. And, fuck, am I here for it. His touch. His voice. His demeanor. It all has me heady. And willing.
“Understood,” I whisper with a cursory nod.
He laces his fingers with mine and silently leads me to the bedroom. Dusty gold light beams through the space as he releases me and plops down on the bed.
“Climb up here, baby girl. You told me yesterday that if I unleashed my monster, you’d grab the headboard like a good girl. So, consider me unleashed. Grab the fucking headboard and drown me in that tasty pussy.”
His words do something to me, frenetic flutters scampering from my stomach to my throat. I’ve heard men talk like that all my life. But not to me. Never to me.
This is hot. And daunting. But I push the latter aside and mount the bed, straddling him and hesitantly moving up toward his head.
He must grow impatient with my snail’s pace because he grips my hips, hauls me over his stomach and chest until I’m hovering above his face, and swats my ass cheek with a resoundingcrack, producing a tantalizing sting that zips through me. “That’s for not doing as you were told the first time.”
“I’m not gonna lie,” I say as I clasp the headboard. “This is awkward as fuck, but I freaking love this side of you. You can spank me anytime.”
He chuckles and issues another alluring swat on the opposite cheek. “Glad to hear it, Little Moon. There’s a lot more of that in store.”
In a self-conscious moment, I feel the need to tell him I don’t know what I’m doing. The blow job? That I had practiced—on three guys and countless bananas. But there’s never been time for this or a man who suggested it.
So, I murmur, “I’ve never—”
“I’ve got you, baby. Swivel those hips and ride my tongue. Tell me when you’re about to come.” With that, his fingers dig into my skin as he drags me lower, his tongue darting out with soft, languid strokes.
And,holy hell, if I thought the sensation was otherworldly with panties between us, this takes me to a whole new dimension. After a minute, he forcefully smashes me against his mouth until my full weight is smothering him, consuming me with ravenous swills and decadent whirls of my heat until he sucks my clit into his mouth like an enthralling vacuum. He’s everywhere. His growling approval surpasses my core to charge through my limbs and muscles and bones. His scruff scratches the skin on my inner thighs with a branding chafe. A sultry marking.
And a hazy fog envelops me. It’s nearly too much. Aching and mending. Chilled and inflamed. Tender and fierce.
“Oh God,” I pant. “Don’t stop. So good.”
He swivels my hips for me as his consumption becomes downright voracious, so I adopt a rhythm that beckons me to the edge. Spots dot my vision, and tremors rack through my arms and thighs.
As I prepare to dive off that blissful cliff, I cry out, as instructed to do. “I’m gonna come, Ty.”
In a blink, he lifts me off him and throws me onto my back, instantly planking over me. And a motherfucking grin blasts across his glistening face as he declares, “You didn’t actually believe you’d get to come after—how did you phrase it?—leaving me in the lurch with a stiff dick?”
My ragged breaths billow out between us. I’m partly enraged but otherwise impressed. That sweet side of Ty really is a freaking mask. I mean, it’s there. He’s generous, considerate, and compassionate. He’s the good that turns wicked to gray. But he’s every bit the lethal force he proclaimed to be. And I’m the fool who’s destructive enough to crave more.
Once I center my choppy breathing, I belt out a giggle. “Fair enough. I’ll concede to that.”
“Good,” he praises before nipping at my lips. “That was for me. I have fantasized about eating that pussy for too long to let yourtransgressionsrob me of what’s mine.”
So much about that subtle confession knocks the wind out of me that I’m not even going to tap into thetransgressionspart of it.
Still hovering above me, he peppers kisses along my neck and jaw, his fingers tangoing over the swollen area between my legs—plunge, feather, dip, circle—until I’m a gooey mess of pants and moans.
“There you go, baby,” he coos. “That’s better, huh?”
