Page 91 of A Taste like Sin
tongue tracing his lower lip.
“Dios mío,I can smell you already,” he growls, inviting with a crooked finger. “Now, sweet girl.
Tonight, you show me firsthand how to touch you.”
Heart hammering, I inch closer and he extends his hand, heavy palm upright. A tremor racks my spine
as I lie back and guide him between my legs. I’m groaning before I even feel him. He cups me roughly
and the friction negates the softness of his skin.
“Spread your legs for me. Wider—sí,like that.” With every word, he flexes his hips, rubbing himself
against me—but never inside. So close to what he promised.
It’s torture. It’s sin. I moan against him without a damn given for anyone who could overhear. Still, I
let him set the pace. I let him control the intensity of sensation, barely fucking enough.
It’s raw fire against tender flesh and all I can do is bite my tongue against the onslaught.
“No,” he growls, easily maneuvering above me. “You let me hear you. You moan when I touch you.”
His thumb slips inside me, triggering an echo of what he craves. “And when I fuck you, sweet girl…
you scream.”
His knee nudges my legs farther apart, and he grips my hips, positioning me. The rasp of his undone
zipper teases the air before I feel him. Taunting at first, sliding a pulsing ridge of flesh between my
legs. Sinful, raw friction next. Nowhere near enough. Then, without warning, he thrusts hard. Deep.
Strangled noise rips from my throat.
“Like that,” he groans, rocking his hips to almost draw free before slamming back in. “Mierda, like
that.”
He bucks, thrusting deeper. Unhurried. Air thickens. The world fades. My hands clutch his shoulders.
My knee curls, fighting for leverage against his thigh. His nearness triggers every memory from the
other night. The soreness. The pleasure.
My brain is reduced to a senseless thought on an infinite loop:Need more.
He’s trapping me in this memory, more vibrant than any painting hanging on his walls. I’ll never
forget the taste of him on my tongue. The words he growls into my ear as my breaths quicken and the
tension building inside me overflows.
Afterward, I don’t know how long we lie still, his arms around me, his mouth at the base of my throat.
Clarity returns only as he shifts easing back as a disappointed pang shoots through my belly.
“I won’t go far, sweet girl,” he says thickly. Sure enough, he only snatches up one of the sheets kicked
