Page 39 of Born into Blood

“I promise. Will you be disappointed if I do?”

“Never, kisa.”

She hears the truth in my words and leans closer, bringing one hand up so she can caress my face with her fingers. The touch is soft and hesitant. Starting at my brow, she follows a path down the side of my face before dipping lower to trace along my tattooed neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, making me smile because she’s so goddamn sweet.

Before I can tell her that she’s the beautiful one, she presses her lips to mine and kisses me with a hunger that has me wrapping my arms around her as my hips rock up on instinct. She moans against my mouth, grinding harder against me, and I become convinced that I’m going to be the one that has to make us stop because I already feel like I’m seconds away from lifting her skirt and freeing my cock.

Threading my fingers in her hair, I cup the back of her head and slide my other hand up her side, memorizing every inch of her body as I go, and when I lightly graze along the side of her breast, she moans my name, begging me for more. Filling my palm with her, I fist her hair and run my thumb over her nipple, feeling it harden beneath me.

When she breaks our kiss to let out a gasp, I nip and suck and lick my way down her throat, stopping to run my tongue over her pulse point, wanting to feel the rapid beat of it, to know that this is affecting her just as much as it is me.

“Luka.”

My name is a breathy pant on her lips, and I freeze in place. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

I smile at her insistent tone and nip softly at the tender flesh of her neck. Her whole body shudders against mine at that one touch, and when I start to kiss lower, she brings a hand between us, ripping the last few buttons open to give me better access. When she pulls back enough for me to see her gorgeous tits in that lacy, white bra, I feel my willpower stretch dangerously thin.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Lara.” I reach up and drag my fingers along the fullness of her breasts, gently pushing her shirt open even more. When I brush one of my thumbs over the pert nipple that’s straining at the lace, she arches her back and moans my name.

“This right here is what I love,” I tell her. “I don’t give a flying fuck about other women or strippers or any of that shit that you think men are supposed to care about. This right here is what I crave. A private moment between the two of us, something no one else has ever seen or will ever see. You trusting me enough to show your body to me. Fuck, kisa, I could come just from this.”

“Do you want me to do something for you?” she asks.

The offer is tempting, but I smile up at her and say, “I’d much rather make you come.”

Sitting up so we’re chest to chest, I keep our faces close so I can see her reaction when I ask, “Will you let me?”

There’s enough light from the apartment and the fairy lights for me to see the blush to her cheeks, but there isn’t any fear when she shakes her head and whispers, “Yes.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

She doesn’t even hesitate with her answer, and that means more to me than she knows. Trust and loyalty are everything to me. She has mine, but I need hers too.

Being careful to not tip us over, I keep her in the hammock while I get out. “Turn to the side so you’re sitting in it with your legs hanging out,” I tell her.

She scoots around until she’s how I want her. I drink in the sight of her—shirt open, breasts rising and falling with her quick breaths, skirt riding high on her gorgeous thighs. I drop to my knees before her, scooting close enough so I’m between her legs. Hovering my upper body over hers, I grab one of her wrists and stretch her arm out to the side.

“Grab onto the rope, and don’t let go.”

She curls her fingers through one of the wide holes in the hammock and grips it tightly.

“Good girl,” I tell her, “now do the same with your other hand.”

Her lips part at my words as her eyes grow darker. When she’s clutching rope with both hands, I bring my face to hers.

“Don’t let go,” I remind her.

“I won’t,” she whispers. Her voice is shaky, but it’s not from fear. Every part of her is alive and vibrating with desire, with need. She wants to come, she’s fucking dying to, and I can’t believe that I’m the lucky bastard who gets to give her this.

I drag my nose along her neck, breathing in the scent that I’m completely addicted to. “I’m the only man who will ever touch you, Lara Swan,” I murmur against her skin.

“Yes,” she whimpers when I nip at her clavicle, slowly kissing my way down her chest before running my tongue over the swell of her breast.

---