“Only when I remember you’re an asshole.”
The rumble of his laughter vibrates against my collarbone. “Fair.” He kisses me again then shifts his weight, going back onto his knees to pull his shirt over his head. My mouth goes dry at the sight of all those muscles and tattoos, my eyes linger on the wordswanand I realize there’s something more there.
He catches me staring. “What?”
“Just wondering how many times you’ve done this exact routine.” The words burst from my lips. Defense mechanism activated.
Bones stills. “You think there’s a routine?”
“I think Stoneheart has groupies.”
“Fuck groupies.” He hooks his fingers in the waist of my jeans and drags me closer, eyes never leaving mine. “You think I’ve brought anyone else to this bed? To this apartment? That I’d ever want anyone after?—”
“After what?”
His jaw works. “After I had a taste of you,” he growls, fingers popping the button of my jeans. The denim rasps against my thighs as he peels them down, dragging my panties along with them. “You think I could want anything else?”
The certainty in his voice does something to me. Makes my chest tight and my throat burn because I’ve spent so long being disposable—replaceable prima ballerinas are a dime a dozen in New York—and here’s this man looking at me like I’m the only woman who’s ever existed.
Ballet taught me to be perfect. Controlled. To tame every impulse and wild instinct until I was nothing but disciplined grace.
But the way Bones looks at me? Like he wants me wild. Like he wants me untamed. Like every reckless, messy, uncontrolled part of me is exactly what he’s been waiting for.
It’s terrifying.
It’s also the most alive I’ve felt in years.
The cold air hits my bare skin first. Then his mouth.
He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t pause for permission. Just pushes my knees wide and licks a hot stripe from my ass to my clit that makes my spine arch off the mattress, a broken sound escaping my throat as his hands clamp down on my thighs.
“Still taste the same,” he mutters against me, the vibration making my toes curl. “Still fucking perfect.”
I fist the sheets, torn between wanting to shove him away and pull him closer. His tongue flicks at my clit and turns my spine to liquid, and suddenly I don’t care about anything except the coil tightening low in my belly.
“Bones—”
“Right here, swan.” His fingers tease my entrance. “Not going anywhere.”
He pushes two fingers inside and I cry out, my hips bucking off the bed. His mouth closes around my clit and sucks hard, and the combination of sensations has me gasping and writhing.
“That’s it,” he growls against me. “Want everyone on this block to know who’s making you scream.”
His fingers curl, hitting that spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. My thighs try to clamp shut around his head but he forces them wider, holding me open for him.
“So many nights,” he says between licks. “So many nights jerking off thinking about this pussy. Dreaming about the sounds you make when you come on my tongue.”
“Bones, please?—”
“Please what?” He adds a third finger and I keen at the stretch. “Use your words, swan.”
“I need—fuck—I need more.”
“More?” His thumb finds my clit while his fingers work inside me. “You need to come? Need me to fuck you?”
“Yes! God, yes, both?—”
He pulls his fingers out and I whimper at the loss. But then he’s flipping me over onto my stomach, his hands gripping my hips and hauling my ass up.
