Page 36 of Siren

“We should sing instead.”

Her scent—skin and perfume made to be kissed off—hit me in the chest like a drumline.

“Do you want to sing with me, Taraj?”

My name had never sounded so undone. I reached for the belt of her coat.

She stopped me. “I didn’t say take it off,” she murmured. “Not yet.”

My dick throbbed under the towel like it had ears. “Youlike control,” I said, voice thick. “I like rhythm. And you’ve got it.”

She circled me, slow and deliberate, her coat parting just enough for me to catch black lace clinging to her perfect ass, a peek of her slick thighs, the soft curve of pussy lips beneath sheer fabric. She walked like sin—on beat.

When she turned back, her lips were parted, eyes lit with something primal.

“I was just tested. You?”

“Yeah, and I’ve not been with anyone for a while.”

She smiled.” A year for me. I’m on the pill.”

My dick pulsed and I swallowed hard. it was clear what she wanted. She wanted raw. Skin to skin. Flesh to flesh. She wanted everything, and I was going to give it. The proof of that came with her next words.

“I don’t want slow tonight,” she said. “Not at first.”

That was all it took because i didn’t think I could go slow—not when I’d been thinking about smelling and tasting her pussy all night. I let the towel fall.

Her eyes dropped—and stayed.

I crossed the space between us in one step—mouth crashing into hers, hands gripping her hair, dragging down the length of her spine, molding to her waist, then lower, gripping her ass with both palms like it belonged to me.

Her lips parted. Tongue met mine—slick, hot, eager. She moaned into me—deep, messy, like she’d been waiting all fucking day.

I walked her backward until her back hit the wall. My body pinned hers, just enough pressure to remind her how hard I was, how ready. Our hands tangled before I slid mine up, trapping her wrists above her head as my mouth traveled down the silk heat of her neck.

Her skin was like fucking velvet. Warm, flushed, tasting like want.

I licked below her jaw, across her collarbone, down to theswell of her breasts. I sucked her nipple through the lace—slow, greedy pulls that had her back arching, her hips lifting.

She gasped. “Oh my?—”

I dropped to my knees before she could finish the thought.

Her coat slipped from her shoulders and puddled at her ankles—pooling around those fuck-me heels like an offering.

She stood there in nothing but black lace. Thighs trembling. Pussy glistening through sheer fabric that did nothing to hide how soaked she was.

I looked up at her as I hooked my fingers in the lace and eased it aside.

Her mound was plush. Slick. A soft patch of hair glistening with wetness. Her lips were swollen, parted, her clit peeking out like it was begging for my mouth.

God.

She was ready for me.

And I was going to give that pussy the kind of attention it wouldn’t forget.

Her breath was shallow. Her eyes heavy. Her pussy—wet, pulsing, calling to my fucking mouth. I kissed her thigh. Then higher. Then again at the crease of her hip.

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