“I know,” I whisper. I want him to.
He crawls, so slowly, onto the bed. As if he’s giving me the chance to escape. It’s futile. We both know he’ll never let me go.
He leans down between my knees, grazes his teeth up my thighs. And then he bites. Hard. Making me scream. He releases me and chuckles, licking my wound.
My legs shake, as he nips and licks higher up, until he’s right by my core. I will him to close the distance, to put me out of my misery, but instead, he purses his lips and blows. Cold air on my hot skin, making me jolt. He laughs.
“Johnny—”
Before I can reprimand him further, he dives in. And heeats. He eats me like a man starved for days. Like a man who relies solely on me for his survival. Like he promised all those years ago, I’m drunk off his tongue. Shaking at his mercy. But there is no mercy where this man is concerned. There’s only being dragged straight to Hell with him.
My hands rake for purchase on the slick sheets, and when I find none, I grasp his hair and grind myself against his mouth instead.
“Mmm,” he moans against me. The vibrations driving me crazy. “Yes, Honey. Use me. You’re perfect.”
With those directives I pull his face into me further. Grind myself against him harder. Until I’m shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.
“Fuck,” I gasp.
“Again,” he growls, voice wrecked.
I barely have time to breathe before he’s dragging me toward the edge again. His mouth is relentless, tongue unforgiving, lips sealing over my clit like a brand. I sob his name, thighs shaking around his head.
“Johnny—please—”
He only chuckles against me. “No mercy, Honey. Not tonight.”
His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, anchoring me as he devours me without pause. Without softness. Tears prick my eyes. It’s too much. Too sharp. Too raw. But I can’t stop it. I’m not begging him to stop. I’m begging him for more.
My second orgasm hits harder than the first. It’s violent, all-consuming. I scream, back bowing off the bed.
And still, he doesn’t stop.
“Johnny,” I choke, dragging at his hair. “Stop—I can’t—”
Finally, he lifts his head. Lips swollen, chin glistening,eyes black as sin. He looks like a goddamnbeast. Like he’s tasted heaven and refuses to come back down.
“You can,” he rasps. “And you will.”
I’m panting. Shaking. Barely coherent. He reaches down and unbuckles his belt in one slow pull. The sound alone makes me clench.
His eyes lock to mine, dark and dangerous.
“I’ve waited eight fucking years to have you like this,” he says roughly. “To make you come apart in my hands. Under my mouth. Under my cock.”
I swallow hard. My mouth is dry. Every part of me is trembling with want and fear and something far worse. Something that feels a lot like love.
He drags the belt free, tosses it aside, and shoves his pants down just far enough. His dick is already hard, thick, flushed, leaking.
I bite my lip. Fuck me… I want him. I want him like I’ve never wanted anyone. Not even back then. But this isn’t sweet boy Johnny anymore. This isCrow.The man who ends lives. The man who has secrets. This is a man who wants to own me so thoroughly there’ll be nothing left but his mark on my soul.
He grips himself, strokes once. Twice. His jaw clenches.
“Turn over, Honey,” he says, voice like steel. “Hands on the headboard.”
I hesitate.
He arches a brow. “Don’t make me ask again.”
