Page 88 of Lesson In Forgiveness

Scraping his beard over the pearled tip of her nipple, Grit hummed softly. “Your safeword is there for a reason, little tiger.” Finding her clit, he tapped the pad of his finger on it, circling the sensitive bud until her hips gave the slightest jerk.

“Grit!” The snap of her voice tried to override him.

Continuing to hum nonchalantly, he kissed his way down her body, using his lips to follow the contours of her ribs and waist, the dip of her stomach. Her breath caught between gasps, giggles, and protests as his beard provoked her ticklish spots.

“Kick off the covers,” he ordered, still toying with her clit. The bundle of nerves was thicker now, swelling in response to direct stimuli.

When she obeyed, he snagged a pillow and shifted to kneel between her legs. A gentle smack to the inside of each thigh encouraged her to spread them further; he swore she blushed from each tiny, perfect toe to the roots of her hair.

“Lift your hips. Higher, that’s it. Good girl,” he praised, crooning the words. The pillow wedged under her ass, raising her pelvis to just the right height. Taking his time studying her, he smiled. “God, you’re so pretty, Tabitha. All of you is so damn beautiful, but this pussy… mmmn, I love this shade of pink.”

That hit her neon switch—she lit up like a stop light, glowing with embarrassment.

Moving to his elbows, he curled an arm around her thigh, setting his shoulder into the bend of her knee to pin her open. He used his other hand to press gently against her opposite leg, feeling the sleek muscles quiver beneath his touch. “Don’t move, little tiger. Stay exactly like this.”

A long lick from her anus to her clit wrenched a timid cry from her. Already raised high, she couldn’t twist or lift her hips to evade the intimate kiss, but her fingers scrabbled in the sheets for purchase.

Grit took his time, using his tongue to tease her until arousal began to heat. Under his ministrations, her labia became plump and firm, filling with blood the same way his cock was hardening.

Wary of her hands, knowing she could break his neck if he overstepped her limits, he parted her with a stroke of his tongue, finally tasting the heart of her. Her juices were like silk, slick and sweet, although not abundant. Not yet.

When he groaned, Tabitha froze. He practically heard her muscles seize, turning to stone. A glance at her face told him she was fighting the urge to do him serious bodily harm—she really didn’t like him making sounds of appreciation for her body while he was exploiting said body.

“Take a breath, Tabby,” he advised, absently running his hand along her thigh. The lean, sculptured muscles honed by years of training and active use were rock hard beneath the softness of her skin. “We went through this before, remember? Take a slow breath and trust me.”

Tabitha was a woman of many talents; disconnecting herself from a situation was one of them. The angry panic in her eyes was sliding away into that empty glaze, her face becoming lax and unresponsive.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he murmured, preferring to deal with an enraged tigress than a woman who sank so deep into herself, it took an eternity to find her again. If he needed to yank the tiger’s tail to stop her from spiraling… well, he’d always been a sucker for punishment. “Stay with me, Tabitha.”

Not even a flicker of recognition at his voice; just a swath of emptiness dragging her down deeper. He hated to think how often she traveled this path alone, relying on her own strength to haul herself out of the hole it led her into again and again.

Circling her clit with the tip of his tongue, he sealed his lips around it and sucked. Gently at first; persuasive little pulls to try and coax her back to the real world. When that didn’t work, he set his teeth on her, nipping at the taut bud, feeling her body react to the brief flickers of pain.

But her attention was a million miles away.

“Sorry about this, little tiger,” he said before taking her clit between his teeth and biting down. Lightly to start, adding pressure bit by bit until her hips squirmed and bucked. Until the pain went beyond pleasure into hurting.

Tabitha snapped back faster than he anticipated; there was no slow emergence, no gentle coming back to him. No, he got the full force of the tigress he preferred, rage and all, erupting like a goddamn demon.

The heel of her hand slammed into his forehead, knocking his head back as her body contorted. Her thighs clamped around his neck, her legs crossing over his shoulders to hold him in a fucking headlock that he found sexier than he should.

Grit grimaced when she clapped her hands on his ears, sending pain shearing through his brain. Her snarl was a warning he took seriously; pushing his weight forward, gripping her thighs as they tried to strangle him, he rolled onto his back.

She struggled, scrambling to free her legs from under his weight—he gave her the opportunity to do just that, snagging her cuffed wrists as he leaned forward. Her body shifted, that perfect form moving fluidly until she straddled his face instead of choking him.

Adrenaline surged through Grit’s blood, sending his cock into a state of rapture. Harder than he’d been in a long time, feeling his pulse beat along the thick shaft, he clamped his hands on her hips, pinning her in place.

And he feasted like a starving man.

Patience and care were his natural instincts, but beneath them was a core of primal beast walking hand in hand with his dominant side. The threat of violence, the urgency of battle against a worthy foe, brought that beast to the surface, throwing itself into the skirmish with great delight.

Tabitha screamed when his tongue pierced her core, her hands fisting in his hair and yanking as she ground herself onto his face. She rode the lash of his tongue tentatively, making sounds that were part bliss, part revulsion.

Such a tormented soul. Even as her pussy wept, her juices lapped up with long strokes of his tongue, her mind couldn’t comprehend it. Violence, pain, she understood all too well—having her body violated and her control usurped without getting anything in return was her version of normal.

He could take everything from her, he realized, every single thing she had to offer as long as he did so by force. Because that was how she’d been trained, what she’d been taught to accept.

Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t that kind of guy. Whatever he took, he gave back tenfold, one way or another.

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