Page 191 of Savage Hearts

It seemed he couldn’t get enough, and he didn’t care to bring me to the brink. He wanted to take his time.

The building of my orgasm was slow.

Torturous.

I wanted him to go faster, harder.

I lifted my hips, but he only pushed me back down once more with his hands, never stopping the movement of his lips.

I bit my lip harder, my hands reaching down and grabbing two fistfuls of his hair. He didn’t seem to mind. I tugged on his hair even more when I felt his teeth on my clit.

“Fuck,” I said when he began to roll the swollen bundle of nerves around.

My stomach hollowed as I tried—and failed—to take as many deep breaths as possible. It felt like the air was being steadily seeped out of this room, killing me slowly.

I sighed with relief when he let go of my clit, but then he used the flat of his tongue to lick up my slit.

“Please,” I cried, as a strong surge of arousal gushed out of me. I was afraid to fall, but wanted to so badly.

I had never felt so conflicted.

He hummed around me, his eyes glinting in delight as they met my own.

This was far from over.

How exactly did he think this would make me hate him less? Because right now, I just wanted to murder him.

He licked me again and again, playing with my sensitive flesh before his tongue prodded my entrance.

My body twisted at the sensation, and I was sure my grip on his hair was becoming too painful because he gently pulled my hands away, holding my wrists in one hand and pressing them on my stomach.

I flexed my hands, but it was as I suspected.

He had me firmly in place.

He went back to teasing my clit while his other hand came out to play.

My eyes rolled back when I felt his fingers gently nudging my entrance before he pushed two thick fingers inside.

He pumped them slowly, steadily, moving at the same pace as his lips.

Tears burned my eyes, and I shook my head.

“Please,” I begged once more.

God, he was killing me.

And just when I didn’t think I could handle any more, I fell unexpectedly.

I no longer cared about not making any noise. I didn’t care that I was supposed to be mad at Killian or the brothers, or how I’d had a sense of defeat this morning.

I didn’t fucking care about anything except how it seemed to always feel like the Tiernan brothers knew how to play my body against me.

I lost.

I threw my head back and screamed his name, and Killian chose this moment to quicken his pace.

Fuck.

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