Page 56 of Shattered Veil

The warmth in her eyes told me that she knew that I meant it, but she still blinked twice, slowly, as if she were attempting to absorb the words.

“Good.” Her voice was nearly inaudible. “I like you here with me.”

I melted into the couch—my body remaining still as I relished the feel of her beneath my palm, but my mind oozing into a delightful goo that would never leave the fabric beneath me. My face turned hot as I realized that she was so close that her breath was mingling with mine, and though I’m sure it was wholly unnecessary to say, I muttered:

“Me too.”

Cassie asked softly, “Is now when I say that I officially want to take back what I said?”

“About forgetting?” I muttered.

“Yes.”

I laced my fingers into her hair. “Yes,” I replied. “It is.”

“Because I don’t want to forget,” she said in an exhale.

The mere sentence lit me up, sending a thrumming energy straight into my blood that made me squeeze my grip. She gasped quietly as I angled her head further upward with the guidance of my grasp, and, as if on cue, the fire crackled loudly.

“Kiss me,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Yes.”

I brushed my nose against hers, she shuddered in response, and in a way that I had imagined several times over, I pulled her mouth to mine. To be honest, it was less rough than I had intended, for I wanted to kiss her with such force that I could feel my teeth press into the backside of my lips hard. Instead, the moment that I felt her against me, we both sagged heavily in relief, and our motions were deliciously soft. Cassie reached forward, fisting her hand in my hair, and pulled with a silent insistence to deepen our kiss. We did, tasting each other with patient touches of our tongues, emitting soft gasps and quiet hums of appreciation until our magnetism that I thoroughly hoped would never cease to steal my breath had escalated to sparks. Electricity. The word was simple enough, and I was certain that many before had used it to describe their attraction to another. This electricity, however, was stored in clouds that lingered above, primed to be released as lightning and set the scene around us ablaze.

Our movements rendered us shimmying for her to straddle me, grinding her hips over my cock that was forever hard at her existence and forcing profanities to fling from my mouth. She moved down to lick at the hollow of my throat, dragging her tongue up and biting just where my facial hair began. It elicited a moan from me, and she ordered:

“Take off your shirt.”

Though she was the one who had asked, she completed the task for me, grabbing at the fabric and pulling it over my head. Cassie leaned back as she threw my shirt to the floor, raking her eyes from my abdomen up to my chest. She placed her hands on my stomach gently, and I immediately tensed.

“Ticklish, right?” she asked.

Her touch remained where it was, and I breathed out half a sigh of relief.

“You remembered. Please, don’t scratch me.”

Cassie hummed in acknowledgment, bending down and wandering with her lips. When she reached the crook of my neck, she whispered:

“What about this?”

I exhaled, “Yes.” She sank her teeth into me just hard enough to leave a significant sting, and I arched into her. My cock throbbed, and I groaned, “Ah—I like that.”

She kissed the area with an open mouth as if to soothe, sweetly questioning, “You like me biting you?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm.”

She trailed her mouth to where my tattoos began at the curve of my shoulder and back over my pectorals, continued to sink lower, and nipped at the first rib she came across. I writhed under her, my fingers flexing against the leather of the couch. It was delicate torture, watching her go further and further, gently catching my skin with her teeth wherever she pleased, and I was her masochist. Watching her. Craving more. My ribs, my waist, my hips just above my pants—she gave deft attention to them all. So much so that by the time she fully knelt to the floor and licked from the button of my jeans up to my navel, I was flexing my pelvis in anticipation, my voice rough and cracking as I cursed to the ceiling.

The button was yanked open, and the zipper pulled down. I aided her in removing my clothing down to below my knees, and she looked up from below, tracing her gaze over my length that stood at attention for her.

I expected more beautiful torture. Perhaps a trail of kisses along my inner thighs—a bite to the back of my knee—anything that was sure to make me squirm. Cassie didn’t do any of those. She placed a single, chaste kiss on either one of my hipbones, wrapped her lips around the head of my cock, and sucked.

I threw my head back. “God, fuck!”

She took more of me, her saliva leaving me glistening as she slowly moved up and down. I felt the base of her throat with every iteration, and it was too much—far too much for me to simply watch. I itched to guide her mouth. To feel her jaw flex or her cheeks hollow as she pleasured me. I reached out, touching the edge of her face, and moved in time with her rhythm. Her dark eyes met mine, and the sight of her watching me—watching me watch her—with her mouth filled, my hand now gripped on her neck for guidance as I gently fucked her face…it was…fuck.

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