Page 77 of Salvaged Hearts

“Never thought I’d get to taste you,” he breathed, coming up for air with my juices glistening on his stubbled face. I leaned up on an elbow, reaching out my other hand to haul him up to me by his perfectly disheveled hair. The bastard wouldn’t budge. “Not yet,” he breathed. “I need to feel you come on my tongue, baby.”

I’d never come from oral, truth be told. The thought alone made me squirm as he returned to his ministrations. Apparently, I was not, in fact, done squirming for Greyson Hart.

“Grey,” I said again, this time as a protest that earned a gentle nip of his teeth against my clit.

“Is this our house, my clever Belle?”

“Yes,” I breathed, simultaneously confused, so turned on, and terrified my brain was turning into a smoothie of warring hormones and logic.

“Good. And thisisour bed?” he asked before leisurely sliding the flat of his tongue right up my center, the subtle scratch of stubble against my skin stinging in a delicious bite. All I could manage this time was a nod. “And aren’t youmywife?”

“Yes,” I panted. Okay, maybe it was more of a whimper as his lips wrapped around my clit and gave a hard pull.

“Then when we play, we do it by my rules.”

“Rules?” I repeated stupidly. Half a question, half an answer. Half a brain cell clinging to life inside my head.

“The first time my wife comes, it will be on my tongue.” If he kept up that steady stroke between sentences, that was going to happen embarrassingly quickly. “So when I take you with my cock, you can taste yourself on my lips.” Another unforgiving drag of his tongue, only this time he slipped a finger inside my throbbing core, pulling a cry from my lungs. “So you know exactly who this pussy belongs to.”

His words combined with an expert curl of his finger against a place hithertountouched and just the right amount of pressure from his lips, and I detonated like a warhead. Stars burst behind my eyelids as two years of pent-up tension exploded through every synapse in my brain. As though he could feel every ripple and wave of pleasure my body kept serving, Grey held his position even as my thighs spasmed around his face.

That wasn’t an orgasm.

That was some kind of magical, spiritual, soul-altering ascension. My very essence departed the human plane for a dimension where every muscle in my body could relax into the bed beneath me—well, every muscle except those in my throat, which were suddenlyaching.

Like everything Greyson did, he wrecked me with unmatched efficiency.

Eyes half hooded, I breathlessly watched as he eased his fingers from my channel, then stood, reaching for his belt as his eyes scraped over my now languid body with wolfish satisfaction. But there was something else buried there. A kind of…approbation?

That look of wonder remained in his eyes as he ran a thumb over his lip and popped it into his mouth as though he’d gathered a bit of my pleasure to savor.

Filthy.

Animalistic.

Delicious.

My attention was diverted by a different sight, however. Because his cock was, indeed, pitching an impressive tent in his fancy slacks as he slid a condom from his back pocket. Right up until he freed it in one smooth motion that left him bare and intimidatingly beautiful before he rolled the condom right over the vascular, thick rod he’d been hiding between his legs. My mouth watered as he prowled forward, all thick muscles and a smattering of glorious, dark hair.

Perfect.

If you had asked me to draw my ideal man, he wouldn’t have held a candle to Grey as he lowered over me with some shaken cocktail of adoration and lust in his eyes. “You about made me come just by screaming my name,” he breathed, reverently lining himself up with my entrance.

Had I done that?I mean, that tracked with the raw ache in my throat. I’d evidently carved the letters of his name into my vocal cords. G-r-e-y-s-o-n.

With a devious smirk, he ordered, “Do that again.”

And I did. Because in the next breath, he slid home. There was no warning, no cautious transition. Just a vicious, deliciousclaiming as he filled me entirely before stilling as he glared skyward.

“God, Grey!” My hands wrapped around his body, clinging to him like a lusty little lemur on its favorite tree. “Oh my god,oh god, oh god.”

“Fuck,” he muttered again, jaw flexing. “Dammit, Alice.”

“What?” I breathed, evidently finding my lost second brain cell. The one that did the wording.

“You were made for me, beautiful. I knew you’d squeeze my cock like you needed to pump it for every last damn drop. Your pretty little cunt is as ruthless as the rest of you.”

Too many compliments. Claimings. Filthy words.

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