Page 15

“Don’t,” I warn, looking up at him. “Don’t guide me. Don’t help. Just watch.”

His fingers tighten briefly, then release, falling back to the bed. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Not yet.” I close my mouth around him and sink down, taking him as deep as I can, swallowing his length and his piercings. The sound he makes, broken and desperate and completely undone, feeds something dark and hungry inside me.

I work him with my mouth and hand, finding a rhythm that makes his thighs shake, that has him panting my name like a prayer or a curse. I hollow my cheeks and suck harder, tasting the first bitter hint of pre-cum, and he groans loud enough to carry through these thin walls.

“Poppy ... fuck ... wait...”

I pull back slowly, dragging my tongue along the underside of him, licking each piercing, and look up to find him watching me with blown pupils and flushed skin. “You want me to stop?”

“I want...” He cuts himself off, dragging a hand through his hair, chest heaving. “Christ, I want everything. I want you naked and riding my face. I want to feel you come apart on my cock. I want to know what you sound like when you’re not pretending.”

“Then take it.”

He moves faster than I expect, hauling me up his body and flipping me onto my back. His mouth crashes into mine, hungry and demanding, and his hands are everywhere, pinching my nipples, dragging down my sides, spreading my thighs wide.

“You want me to take?” he growls against my throat. His fingers find me wet and ready, and he slides two inside without warning, curling them to hit the spot that makes me cry out. “You want me to stop being careful?”

“Yes...”

“Then beg me.”

I laugh, breathless and wrecked. “I don’t beg.”

His thumb presses against my clit, circling with just enough pressure to make me squirm. “Everyone begs eventually.”

I grip his wrist, stilling his hand, and meet his eyes. “Make me.”

Something dangerous flashes across his face. He withdraws his fingers slowly, deliberately, and brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean while I watch, transfixed. Then he shifts down the bed, spreading my legs wider, and settles between my thighs.

The first lick is teasing, exploratory. The second is deliberate, his tongue flat and hot against my clit. I gasp, fingers tangling in the bedspread, and he does it again and again, building a rhythm that has me panting, has my hips lifting to meet him.

“Walker...” His name slips out before I can stop it, and he pauses, looking up at me with something like triumph in his eyes.

“There’s the girl underneath.” He kisses my inner thigh, bites the sensitive skin there hard enough to mark. “Not Poppy the mystery. Just you.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs, low and dark, and returns to his task with renewed focus. He licks and sucks and teases, bringing me to the edge with expert precision, then backing off just before I can fall. Again and again until I’m writhing beneath him, my hands in his hair, my voice raw from pleading.

“Please, fuck, Walker. Please...”

He surges up my body, capturing my mouth in a kiss that tastes like me, and positions himself at my entrance. “There it is,” he whispers against my lips. “There’s my girl begging.”

He pushes inside in one long, slow thrust, filling me completely, and we both groan at the sensation. He feels perfect, stretching me just to the edge of pain, and when he starts to move deep, deliberate strokes that hit every nerve ending, I forget everything.

I forget my name.

I forget my mission.

I forget that I’m supposed to kill him.

All that exists is this—his body moving over mine, his mouth on my skin, the dirty praise he whispers in my ear about how tight I am, how good I feel, how he’s going to ruin me for anyone else.

“You’re mine,” he growls, gripping my hips to angle deeper. “Say it.”

“Yours,” I gasp, because in this moment it’s true, because the lie feels sweeter than any truth I’ve ever known. “Yours, yours, fuck!”