Page 54 of Tempt

“Is that all?” she coos, her mouth sinking to the crook of his throat and shoulder. “That isn’t like you, Demon. You say so much, in order to say one thing.”

“You say so little, in order to say a hundred things,” he grinds out, his head flopping to give her better access. “It drives me crazy. You drive me crazy.”

“You were already crazy before we met. And it’s the ones who know the least that exhaust their tongues the most.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

The harsh delivery is a throb inside her, an ache to be filled. It’s the wordFuckthrusting from his lungs.

They pant against each other, gasping through their confessions. Wonder cranks her head upward, kissing the incline between his lower lip and square chin. Then she swabs the chin itself, speaking against the hard ridge. “I’ll do nothing of the sort. I cannot stand you.”

“Yes, you can. You’ve withstood me plenty, so knock it off.”

“If you insist.”

With that, she twists. Her mouth latches onto the corner of his neck and begins to suck.

Malice dissolves into a moan, velvety and flitting to the rafters. He melts into thefaçadewhile his talons dig into her, puncturing her ribcage. It’s a pleasurable sting that makes her gasp into the nook of his jugular. She works him between her teeth, then laps at the spot, ending with an open-mouthed kiss.

And another. And another.

She devours his neck, rolling kisses across the veins. Her tongue flicks, catching the tempo of his pulse point, then migrates lower, sampling a clavicle with her canines. He likes the twinge of pain, so she pays similar attention to the other slender cylinder until his joints quake.

Wonder cannot think straight because there’s so much to ravage, and she’s consumed by the serration of his moans, the glorious tremors wracking them both. She feathers the spongy dip between his collarbones with the point of her tongue. His hoarse gulp infatuates her, spurs her on as she strokes him there, inside that receding spot.

Malice hyperventilates as if he wants more, as if he’s afraid to want more, as if he doesn’t know how to want more.

Wonder mumbles against swell of his Adam’s apple. “You’ve never done this.”

His palms clasp her cheeks and force her to meet his gaze, which is contorted with fury. It’s not a denial. But his visage is a broken seal, exposing the truth. There’s no shame in his status, yet he detests losing this leverage, detests admitting it to her, detests that it’s a visible fact.

That he’s never done anything, with anyone.

He’s ready to pounce on her reaction. His taut lips warn her not to pity him, nor consider this an advantage. But behind the expression is a quaver of the eyebrows, a sliver of timidity.

That’s the boy he used to be.

Wonder’s heart compresses, because the sight of him putting up a front while at her mercy is too much. She might faint, but she’ll take the chance. So she does what she’s been dreaming about for decades.

She cups his face and leans in. “Malice, I want your mouth.”

His lips part. Again, he’s stupefied—not by the request, but by its inflection. Has no one ever lavished him with tenderness?

Certainly not. Why would they?

Gripping her shoulders, his thumbs slide under the nightgown straps, those saber nails sneaking into the garment and grazing her breasts, stopping just shy of her budding nipples. The sensation is a tad sharp, the titillating point of a knife.

She’s dizzy, falling against him, brushing his lips with hers. It’s madness, and it’s rapture. “I want your mouth,” she repeats. “Give it to me. Take it from me.”

The disorganization of that request is not lost on her, but it’s the best her foggy stream of consciousness can do. Because Malice doesn’t protest, she shows him what a fine guide she can be, and what an apt pupil he can be.

It starts when she pecks the crook of his mouth, then the other, planting two caresses at the edges of the world. “Now you,” she breathes.

His mouth quirks, commas digging into his face. Oh, so he likes being told what to do.

Malice follows her lead, sweeping the corners of her mouth while their hands roam over each other. Skin prickling, Wonder entreats, “Yes, dearest. Just like that.”

It continues with another exploration. She instructs him to part wider for her. Once he complies, she sketches the bow of that upper lip with her own, then nibbles on it.

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