Page 176 of Salvatore

“Show me.” I palm his face, dragging my fingernails along the exquisite roughness of his jawline while I test the limits of my movement. “Come for me.”

“You first.” His hand slides from my hip and edges between us, his fingertips seeking and finding my clit. “I want to feel thispretty little cunt coming undone around me. I need to know I make you feel good.”

“You do.” My admission is a breathy rasp. “God, you make me feel so good, Salvatore.”

I roll my hips, the restricted movement frustrating and teasing in equal measure.

“You’re so fucking exquisite.” His gaze sears into mine, his reverence evident in the animalistic hunger of his stare.

I’ve heard those words a thousand times before—each one hollow, the praise empty and recycled—until now. Because he sees me.

Therealme.

The exposure is terrifying, the things he brings to light leaving me stripped bare and raw. But his words—sweet mercy, his words—they make me whole.

They also don’t help ease the pace of my embarrassingly fast-approaching orgasm.

I whimper, clenching my core around him, pulsing my muscles to compensate for my limited movement.

“God.” He groans, adding more pressure to my clit, rubbing with the most exquisite friction. “You feel so good,mi reina. Just like that. You’re so fucking tight.”

“You’re so fucking big.”

“But you own it. Even injured, you ride this cock as if it were made for you.” He tilts my face sideways and growls in my ear. “You wouldn’t believe how hard I’m trying not to fucking come.”

My body flushes as I grip the wrist at my throat for grounding, getting lost in him, never wanting to be found.

“Do you like knowing I’m close?” He kisses my cheek. My mouth. “That every clench of your pretty little cunt brings me one step closer to oblivion?”

I cling to him, rocking, pulsing, suffocating under the weight of approaching bliss.

“Tell me how it makes you feel, knowing I’m fucking mindless for you,” he snarls.

I struggle to breathe. To think. To remain conscious through all the dizzying pleasure.

“Tell me.” He grinds his hips harder, the thick length of him sinking so damn deep.

I crane my head back and moan. “It makes me feel pretty.”

“What you do to me is due to more than beauty.” He slides the hand at my neck to my chin, his fingers taking the place where his lips had just been. “Those eyes and this fucking mouth are heaven-sent.” He skates two fingertips to the back of my tongue, pressing down, making me wish they were his cock. “Butyou,Ivy—your wit, your fire, your rebellion—that’s what has me by the throat.”

Overwhelm consumes me. The bliss becomes too much.

I dig my nails into his wrist. Rock harder. Clench tighter.

“Fucking come for me,mi reina.”

I obey, falling apart, falling under his control, just falling, falling, falling for a man I don’t think I’ll ever want to let go.

36

IVY

I comeundone in a frantic mess of gripping hands and throaty moans.

He’s right there with me, his guttural praise rasped in my ear before I’m left limp and boneless, nothing but a puddle of endorphins against his chest.

I don’t know how long we stay there, entwined and sated, before he slides a gentle hand down my back and braces to move.

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