Page 45 of Can't Bite This Feeling
“To worship you,” he growls. “Properly. Thoroughly. On every surface of this house, if necessary. I’ve been patient all day,” he murmurs against my neck, voice low and dangerous. “But now I need to feel you come apart.”
And then he’s kissing me like the world is ending. Like he’s starving. Like he needs to crawl inside my skin just to breathe. He tears the slip over my head, and the fabric falls like petals to the floor.
“You feel like lightning,” he rasps, kissing a trail down my throat. “Like summer storms and moonlight and hunger.”
His hands roam, reverent and greedy at once, and I melt into him, my fingers tangling in his hair. “Touch me, Rapha. I want to feel everything.”
He pauses, looks up. “Everything?”
My breath catches. “Everything.”
“Gods,” he whispers. “You’re unreal.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper back. “Isn’t that what you always say?”
He growls, eyes glowing faintly red, a glimmer of the demon he used to be. Not dangerous. Not to me. Just… unleashed. Just mine.
“Yes,” he says, his voice a promise and a prayer. “Mine.”
“Then take me,” I breathe, already aching.
His mouth crashes into mine again, hot and demanding, while his hands slide over my hips, my ass, my breasts, possessive and practiced, like he’s memorized every inch of me.
He has.
His fangs graze my bottom lip as he growls, “You remember what we talked about earlier?”
“Mmm,” I hum, grinding against the thigh he’s wedged between mine. “About children?”
He kisses down my neck, trailing heat and hunger. “You said love creates. So let’s make something. Right now. Fill you up, keep you full of me until the magic decides it’s time.”
I moan, head thudding back against the door, thighs already slick with need. “You think my womb’s a spell circle now?”
“I think it’s mine,” he snarls, dipping to suck one aching nipple into his mouth.
I whimper, wrapping my legs around him as he carries me to the bed. He tosses me onto the mattress, and I sprawl there, flushed and panting, while he strips out of his clothes, letting me watch.
His cock is thick and already hard, flushed dark and dripping at the tip.
“I want to taste you first,” he says, kneeling between my thighs and pulling them wide. “Need you to come on my tongue before I fuck a baby into you.”
“Rapha,” I gasp, but the rest of the sentence vanishes into a scream as his mouth descends.
He licks me like he’s starving, like my pussy is the only thing that will ever satisfy him. His tongue circles my clit, teasing, torturing, until he slides two fingers inside me and curls them just right.
“Oh, Gods, yes!”
“That’s it,” he murmurs, lips brushing my slick folds. “Come for me, Dru. Let me taste you while you think about me coming inside you, raw and deep.”
That does it. My vision whites out as my orgasm crashes over me, wild and sharp and endless. My magic bursts outward in a shimmering pulse, ruffling the curtains and lighting the candles.
He groans against me, like my pleasure alone feeds him. When I finally blink back into my body, he’s crawling over me, bracing himself on one arm as he guides his cock to my entrance.
“You ready?”
I reach for him, wrap my legs high around his hips. “I’ve been ready since you poured cinnamon in your coffee this morning and gave me that look.”
He pushes in with one smooth thrust, and we both cry out.
