She shifts, but I pin her harder. "The spoon…"
"Fuck the spoon," I say between kisses up her jaw until I find her lips.
The kiss is soft, sweet, tender.
Until it's not.
It shifts without warning--one second I'm savoring her, the next I'm claiming her mouth like I've got every right to it. Like I'll die if I don't taste every inch of her. She opens for me immediately, tongue meeting mine in a slick slide that makes my whole body tighten. She tastes like chocolate and sweetness andherand I can't get enough. My hand slides from the back of her head to cup her jaw, angling it so I can take her deeper, take more. She moans into my mouth and the sound vibrates through my chest and down my spine..
Her hands are in my hair, nails scraping my scalp, pulling me closer like she doesn't want an inch of space between us. I shift, pressing my weight into her and her legs fall open, an invitation I'm helpless to refuse. When I settle between her thighs, she gasps, hips rolling up to meet mine. The friction is maddening. I'm hard where she's soft, every little move sending sparks shooting up my spine.
I break the kiss to catch my breath, but she chases my mouth, pulling me back down.
"Don't stop," she breathes against my lips. "Don't you dare stop."
So I don't.
I kiss her like I'm trying to memorize the shape of her mouth, the taste of her tongue, the way she whimpers when I bite her bottom lip. My hand slides down her side, feeling every curve, every bit of her I can reach, and she arches into my touch, restless, needy, making these little sounds in the back of her throat that are going to kill me.
When I finally pull back, we're both panting, her lips swollen and flushed, eyes dark with want.
"Grey," she whispers, my name a plea.
"I know, baby," I rasp, my voice wrecked. "I know."
I take her hand on my chest to kiss her palm, but my fingers brush the bandages there. I freeze. Everything goes cold, then hot, fury and tenderness clashing in my chest. I take it carefully, press my lips to the gauze.
Someone tied her. Hurt her. Took her from me.
My throat's too tight.
"Never again," I promise her, kissing her palm like I intended, placing it on my jaw. And then I kiss her again, softer this time, like I could erase every bad thing that's happened to her with my lips that loves her so. My hand skims down her ribs to her hips, back up to cup her breast, then squeeze it, then knead it greedily. But I want her skin.
I grip the hem of her shirt--myshirt--and pull, breaking the kiss when she rises and pulls it off herself, then takes off her glasses. She's beautiful, flushed and waiting, and mine. Bruises are forming on her ribs, her shoulders. My jaw clenches. I lean down, press my lips to each one, gentle, worshipful. Her breasts are bare and perfect, nipples tight, and I palm one, feel the weight and the softness. My thumb circles her nipple, watching it tighten under my touch.
She was made for my hands.
I lean down, take her nipple in my mouth, and the sound she makes is worth dying for. I suck slow, swirl my tongue aroundthe peak, feeling it tighten against my lips. Her hands fly to my hair, gripping hard, holding me to her like she's afraid I'll stop.
I won't. I couldn't.
I let go wetly, noisily, her nipple glistening. I move to the other. This one I bite, gently at first. Testing. But she arches into it, crying out. The damp heat of her soaks through her shorts, and I groan against her skin, the scent of her arousal flooding my senses.
I'm lost in her. Face buried in her flesh, kneading one breast while I devour the other, sucking and licking and biting until she's writhing beneath me. I mark the curves, the swells, the soft skin between. Leave bruises made with love like my signature--mine. She's mine.
When I finally pull back, I'm breathing hard. Her breasts are flushed and glistening where my mouth has been, scattered with little red marks, made with love and hunger and desperate need.
I hook my fingers in her shorts, and she lifts her hips, helps me drag them down, panties and all in one pull. And then she's bare beneath me, legs slightly spread, and I have to stop. Have to look.
Flushed everywhere. Nipples tight and wet. Pussy pink and glistening, already so ready for me.
My cock throbs, straining against my sweats, aching to be inside her.
I want to taste her.
I kiss a trail down her stomach, slow and deliberate, settling between her thighs, hands spreading them wider. And she lets me, pliant and trusting. My mouth waters at the sight of her, leaving me hungry.
I drag my tongue through her folds, bottom to top--she jerks, hips bucking.
