Page 88 of Last Chorus

With a groan more amused than annoyed, she lets the axe fall to the ground and sits heavily on the stump.

Panting, she wipes damp hair off her forehead. “There’s something seriously wrong with you.”

I grin. “You love it.”

Sunlight cuts through the clearing, bisecting her flushed face and making her gray eye glow with predatory light. My mouth drops as she spreads her legs and arches an eyebrow.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

Four strides and I’m dropping, my knees slamming into dirt as I rip my T-shirt over my head. Evangeline’s pupils dilate, her breath stuttering, but she still manages a haughty sniff.

“I didn’t say anything about returning the favor.”

My chuckle is so full of dark promise that goosebumps lift on her chest and arms. “It’s to keep splinters from your ass, you brat. Stand up.”

She stands fast, betraying her eagerness. My nose brushes her bare stomach, and I suck in the delicious fragrance of her sweat as I spread my T-shirt over the stump. Then I grab her hips and lick from the waistband of her sweatpants to the edge of her sports bra. She gasps, grabbing my shoulders to stay upright.

Finding a hard nipple through cotton, I flick it with my tongue before closing my mouth around it and sucking hard. She whimpers, rocking toward me. I take advantage, seizing the fabric under my fingers and yanking her pants down, baring her to the sunlight and fresh air.

“Oh, fuck, we’re really doing this?” she asks in a high voice. “Are you sure no one can see us?”

I gaze up at her. “I’d never do this if I wasn’t one hundred percent sure it was private. This is the densest part of the property, the farthest from neighbors and the water. I’m also not even close to the most famous person in the neighborhood, hence the giant walls and armed security. But if you feel unsafe at all, we can absolutely go inside.”

A smile teases her lips. “Get back to work.”

I bite the closest nipple, grinning around her flesh when she smacks my head. There’s no power in the blow, probably because her arms are limp noodles from rage-chopping a stump that’s so old and hard it barely noticed.

“God, I love you,” I murmur, pulling up the band of her sports bra to expose her breasts. I tongue her nipples until she’s panting again—for a different, better reason this time. When her hips start moving in needy circles, I guide her down to the stump until she’s on her back, splayed out like a wicked offering.

“Fucking look at you.” Shadows play over her body, cool air dancing with warm beams of light. I pull her sweats over her sneakers and toss them to her. “For your head.”

As she tucks the fabric behind her neck, I shift forward until my knees hit the trunk before lowering to my heels. Sliding my hands up her silky thighs, I spread them up and to the sides. My cock jumps at the beautifully indecent way she’s bared to me. Arousal shimmers on her pussy, gravity carrying lubricant exactly where I need it. With a groan of appreciation, I kiss my way up one thigh before blowing over her center.

Her legs stiffen under my hands and I glance up, stilling when I register her closed-off expression. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitates, then blurts, “How many women have been on this stump?”

I’m powerless over my slow, satisfied grin. “Why?”

She scowls. “Just answer.”

I bite the nearest skin, earning another feeble slap to my head. “You first. Why, Fairy?”

Her chin lifts, jaw set with defiance. “Because it’s suspiciously the perfect size and height for this.”

The effort of holding back a laugh makes my eyes water and my voice strangled. “You think I had a tree cut down in order to make a sex stump?”

Her face turns red, thighs tensing as she pushes against my hold. “Let me up. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

Twenty-four hours ago, I would have obeyed without question. Now, I shake my head. “Too late. You’re a sacrifice to the sex stump.” Holding her straining thighs, I press a kiss to her clit.

“Wilder,” she hisses.

Tracing the tip of my tongue around the flushed, swollen bud, I roll my eyes up to see her livid expression war with equally potent lust. “No one’s been on the sex stump but you. No one’s been in my bed or shower, bent over furniture or splayed out on my kitchen counter but you. Just you. Only you.”

Expression softening, she sighs out her relief. “Suck me,” she whispers.

I cover her clit with my mouth. She groans, spine arching. I alternate deep, pulsing suction with taps of my tongue. Her fingers dig into my hair, fisting and yanking me closer so she can grind against my face. Her gasps and moans fill the clearing, making my hips rock and my cock throb and leak.

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