Page 49 of Her Soul to Own

“Touch yourself,” I command. “Make yourself ready for me.”

She obeys, her eyes locked on mine. And it’s then I realize, she wants this just as much as I do.

Maybe more.

Lyra cups her breasts obediently, spreading the lube over her flushed skin, her fingers trembling but purposeful. Her eyes never leave mine, dark, daring, and full of heat and trust. She continues to look at me as she kneads her breasts, pinches her nipples, and rolls her hips.

I kneel between her legs, watching every movement and every shiver that ripples down her body. The hunger in me has teeth, and it’s chewing through what’s left of my restraint.

“Perfect,” I murmur, guiding her hands together until her cleavage forms a slick, tight channel. I slide myself between them, and the contact nearly breaks me.

Her skin is hot silk against me. The glide is maddening, and I brace my hands on either side of her, rocking into her slowly, deliberately, and letting her feel every inch, every pulse. Her breath stutters, and her lips part in awe.

“You feel what you do to me?” I ask, my voice low and raw.

She nods, pressing her breasts tighter, giving me more friction, more heat. Her thighs shift beneath me, trying to ease her own aching need, but I don’t stop moving. I want to see it all. Her desperation. Her surrender. The way her lips tremble like she’s one second away from begging.

“Say it again,” I demand. “Whose are you?”

“Yours,” she whispers, her voice hoarse with need.

“That’s right,” I growl, picking up the pace. Her chest shines with lube and sweat, the scent of sex thick in the air. But all I can see, all I canfeel, is her. Wrapped around me. Offering herself up like a prayer and a dare all at once.

My balls draw tight, my cock throbbing between the soft weight of her breasts, and I grit my teeth, chasing the edge that’s coming fast. She lifts her chin, her eyes blazing.

“I want to feel it,” she whispers. “Mark me. Right here.”

She touches her throat where my hand was, and that’s all it takes. With a snarl, I spill over her skin, pulse after pulse of release drawn from the deepest, hungriest part of me. Her hands never stop moving, pressing together and guiding me through every tremor as I come all over her.

Her breasts are coated in my cum, but she doesn’t seem to care if it’s filthy. Turns out she’s a filthy little thing herself.

I sag over her, my breath ragged and my heart slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to break free.

She looks up at me, smiling like she has just won something. “My turn?” she asks, her eyes gleaming.

I grin, wicked and slow. “Oh, you just flipped the switch.”

I reach for her hips, and the real fun begins.

She’s still beneath me, flushed and glowing, her body glistening with the mess I left on her skin. Her chest rises and falls in shallow, quick breaths, and there’s a question in her eyes, but not hesitation. It’s a challenge and an invitation.

And I take it.

“My turn,” I echo, my voice thick with dark promise.

I sit back on my heels, my palms sliding down the insides of her thighs and pushing them wider. Her legs fall open without resistance, and the sight of her, so slick, so ready, nearly derails me all over again.

She’s trembling. From anticipation or aftershock, I can’t tell. But I want to feel it all. I want to own every second of the way her body breaks apart under my hands.

I trail my fingers up from her knees, slow and reverent, until I reach her core. My thumb grazes her clit, and she jerks like I’ve shocked her.

Still sensitive. Still aching.

“God, look at you,” I murmur, stroking around her entrance and gathering the slickness that’s practically pouring from her. “You’ve been holding back, haven’t you?”

Her breath catches.

“I saw how close you were. Riding that toy like you were starving.” I slip two fingers into her, slow but deep, curling just enough to draw a gasp. “But you waited.”

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