His chest presses against mine and the sound he makes is low and rough in his throat.
“Katya—”
“Stop being careful,” I whisper tipping my head back so he can see I mean it. “I’m not fragile.”
“I know you’re not.”
“Then stop treating me like I might break.”
His grip tightens slightly.
“If I stop being careful,” he says roughly, “I’m not going to slow down.”
“Good.”
He studies my face one final time. Whatever he sees there is enough. He lifts me easily and carries me to the bed.
This time the kiss isn’t careful. It’s deeper, fuller, claiming in a way that makes heat rush through my body. My hips move instinctively beneath him until I feel the hard length of him pressing against me.
The friction sends a shock of pleasure through me and I gasp.
He freezes instantly.
“Good or bad?”
“Good,” I manage breathlessly. “Very good.”
The almost-smile returns briefly before his focus shifts again.
“More,” I whisper.
His mouth moves down my body, tracing heat along my skin until my breath becomes shallow and uneven. The first touch of his tongue is soft, almost careful, a slow flat lick from my entrance to my clit that makes my hips jerk off the mattress. I make a sound I don’t recognize, and my hands fly to his hair, fingers threading through the short strands.
He groans against me, the vibration rolling straight through my core.
“You taste like heaven,” he says, words muffled against my folds before he licks again, firmer this time, parting me with the point of his tongue. “So fucking sweet. So wet for me already.”
Heat floods my face, my chest, everywhere. I’ve read about this, stolen scenes in books I hid from my father, but the reality is nothing like the words on a page. It’s warm, wet, relentless. His tongue circles my clit in slow, lazy strokes, then flicks, then sucks gently until my thighs shake around his ears.
“Killian—” My voice cracks. “It’s too much—”
He lifts his head just enough to speak, lips shiny with me. “Too much good, or too much bad?”
“Good,” I gasp. “So good. Don’t stop.”
His eyes flash with something dark and pleased. He dives back in.
This time there’s no gentleness left. He licks and sucks and thrusts his tongue inside me like he’s starving, like he’s trying to drink every drop I give him. One hand slides up to pin my hip to the mattress when I start writhing; the other pushes two thick fingers into me, curling just right, stroking that spot that makes white sparks burst behind my eyelids.
I’m making noises I can’t control. Whimpers, moans, broken versions of his name. My heels dig into his back. My fingers tighten in his hair until I’m sure it hurts, but he only growls in approval and works me harder.
“Look at you,” he murmurs between licks, voice wrecked. “Opening so pretty for my mouth. You’re dripping down my chin, Katya. You’re going to come on my tongue, aren’t you? Going to let me taste how hard you come for your husband.”
The words tip me over.
I shatter.
My back bows, thighs clamping around his head as the orgasm rips through me in violent, shuddering waves. I think I scream his name. I know I pull his hair hard enough to hurt. He doesn’t stop. He keeps licking, keeps sucking, keeps his fingers curled inside me until every aftershock has wrung itself out and I’m a trembling, mess.
