Page 67 of Eat Slay Love

My body blazed with lust. “Are you sensitive to touch?”

“Yes.”

“Good. That means you’ll cum easy for me. Therefore, I plan to make you cum a lot tonight.”

She widened her eyes.

I growled, grabbing her wrist, bringing it over to me, and pressing her fingers against my cock. “Do you feel how hard I am for you?”

“God yes.”

I groaned, grinding against her palm, desperate for any relief.

She moaned, and curled her fingers around my length through my slacks. “So fucking big.”

I chuckled darkly. “Mmm. And you’re going to take every inch, aren’t you,chérie?”

That bottom lip quivered. “Yes.”

I exhaled sharply, barely holding myself together. “Tonight. . .I’m going to make you cum on my tongue first. Next will be my cock. Then, after that. . .we’ll get creative.”

I hope to God she isn’t planning on getting any sleep tonight. Even more important. How much time do we have RIGHT NOW?

I glanced out the window.

Lots of traffic. Perfect.

This Valentine’s evening, the streets of Manhattan were decently congested—a mess of glowing lights and impatient horns.

It would take time to reach the hotel.

I smirked.

Perfect.

Unable to help myself, I moved my hand down to her gown and slipped my fingers beneath the shimmering pink fabric, feeling the heat of her body before I even touched her.

She parted her thighs for me, slow, hesitant at first, but when my fingers brushed against her skin, a soft shudder ran through her, and she spread them wider.

Mon dieu.

I swallowed hard, taking my time, savoring the feel of her—soft, thick, perfect thighs. My fingers traced along the plush curve of her inner thigh, reveling in the warmth, the way her body seemed made for touch.

For worship.

And how fucking dareany man ever make her feel otherwise?

Her ex-husband.

Theimbécilewho had broken something sacred inside her, who had taken one of the most beautiful, sensual women I had ever laid eyes on and made her question her worth.

The thought made my jaw clench, my fingers pausing against her skin.

I wished I could find thatmisérable bâtardand beat him until he understood what he had done.

Until he understood that he hadneverdeserved a woman like her.

He had spoken down to her.

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