Page 186 of Sins of Arrogance

I suckle gen­tly at first, sa­vor­ing the taste of his pre­cum. Then more firmly, al­low­ing my tongue to cir­cle and stroke.

His fin­ger­tips tighten on my nip­ples to the point of pain and my own plea­sure grows more ur­gent.

“Don’t stop. Kara!”

Like I’m go­ing to. My cli­toris is aching for di­rect stim­u­la­tion, but the tight­en­ing in my womb tells me I’m not go­ing to need it to go over the edge into ec­stasy.

I revel in the power I have over him, in know­ing that right now, this lethal man is com­pletely at my mercy. My preda­tor, un­done by his heart.

I slide my mouth down slowly, let­ting my tongue trace the sen­si­tive un­der­side of his thick shaft. He grits out a dirty curse in Gaeilge and it makes me want to smile in tri­umph, but my mouth is too full for that.

I take as much of him into my mouth as I can be­fore suck­ing hard. He thrusts up re­flex­ively, hit­ting the back of my throat, gag­ging me a lit­tle.

I don’t mind. I want this. I want him. All of him.

His words from ear­lier play through my brain in a sexy litany. I want to fuck your throat and see the tears run down your tem­ples from chok­ing on my cock.

I pull back, then push down again, tak­ing him a lit­tle deeper each time. My hands move with my mouth, the rhythm a lit­tle awk­ward, but he doesn’t seem to care. If any­thing, his wild, fren­zied move­ments say he’s right there with me.

He lets go of my nip­ples to fist his hands in my hair, guid­ing my move­ments, push­ing me fur­ther and fur­ther un­til I’m not just gag­ging. I’m chok­ing and mois­ture trick­les down my cheeks.

“Je­sus, Mary and Joseph, mo stór, you’re gonna make me lose it.” As out of con­trol as he sounds, he pulls my head back so I can take a breath be­tween each thrust.

Tak­ing care of me even when his lust nearly con­sumes him.

Re­mem­ber­ing one of the con­ver­sa­tions about how to do it right from my high school days, I hum around him. The re­sults are more than a lit­tle grat­i­fy­ing. Swear­ing, his hips jerk and his hands pull on my hair.

I tighten my grip at the base and take him deeper, swal­low­ing when he hits the back of my throat this time.

He goes deep, block­ing my air­way and I love it. He thrusts once, twice and then he pulls back, al­low­ing me to breathe again.

I look up at my hus­band. His eyes are wild, feral. His chest rises and falls like he’s run a marathon.

Then in one smooth mo­tion, he pulls his erec­tion all the way out of my mouth and hauls me up off the floor, be­fore toss­ing me onto the bed.

I cry out in shock.

“Spread your legs.” The com­mand is rough, a growl scrap­ing from his throat.

It thrills me.

I obey.

Mick climbs be­tween my thighs paus­ing for a sec­ond that feels like a minute while his gaze con­sumes ev­ery fold of my in­ti­mate flesh.

“You’re glis­ten­ing for me, mo chroí.”

I arch, ut­terly shame­less in my need. “I want you.”

He low­ers his head and licks me from my per­ineum to my cli­toris, in one long, slow stroke with his hard­ened tongue.

Al­ready over sen­si­tized, I shriek.

His smile is di­a­bol­i­cal. And then he eats.

There’s no other word for it. He de­vours me like a starv­ing man. Tongue wicked, hands pos­ses­sive, arms pin­ning my thighs so wide there’s plenty of room for his broad shoul­ders.

He cir­cles my clit, flick­ing, suck­ing, teas­ing, and ev­ery time I get close, he backs off. Again and again.