Page 82 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
“But . . .?”
I look away, the shame burning me from my bones to my skin. “It hasn’t.”
His fingers clasp my chin, tilting my face up to his. Without saying a word, he demands I finish that sentence.
My thoughts come out in a trembling whisper. “I need more.”
He leans in and grazes his lips across the shell of my ear. “Say that again.”
My breath stutters, and I whisper, “I needmore, Cristiano. I needyou.”
He wipes a hand down his face before lifting both hands and pushing my hair back, resting his fingers on my nape. “Fuck,” he drawls.
Then he closes his lips over mine.
For a moment he doesn’t move. He just presses his lips against me, breathing deeply. Then his tongue darts out and softly licks the underside of my top lip.
A groan escapes him, and he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine. It takes a second or two for me to realize his breathing is labored. He’s holding back.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
His hands reach up and grip the sides of my face. Then, with his lashes lowered, he brushes his lips across my eyelids, over the bridge of my nose, and down my cheeks. When he reaches my mouth, he traces my lips with his tongue, the sensation setting every inch of my skin alight. I moan helplessly, and he folds his mouth over it, sucking it into his lungs.
Then,fuck, does he kiss me.
He presses me back against the pillar while his tongue swipes against mine from every angle in a hungry waltz. It’s messy and delicious andheated.
Those kisses that failed to light me up before? They werenothingcompared to this. This man can kiss like it’s his dying breath, and I want him all over me.
“Don’t stop,” I groan as he pulls his mouth away.
He chuckles darkly, smooths his hands below my bare buttocks, and lifts me up. My legs wrap themselves around his waist, my ass brushing the top of his erection.
Just being in his arms with his lips on mine is enough to make my world shimmer. I’ve wanted this for more than mere weeks. The way I melt into his embrace as if we were designed for each other, and the way my heart has expanded to fill my entire being, tells me the cool, hard truth: I’ve wanted this all my life. I don’t understand why or how I know this—I just do. Cristiano and I must have met in another life. We were meant to be. And nothing can take that away from us.
His tongue laps at mine, tasting every crevice of my mouth with deep, focused curiosity. It’s like he’s cataloguing every fraction of me. I open up and let him.
“God, I need this,” he moans.
I’m transcending to another reality, one in which I’m treasonous and trapped, but at the same time fed and free.
He continues to kiss me, hard and deep, as he carries me to the elevator. He doesn’t even wait for the door to close before he’s ramming my back against the wall.
His fingers thread up through my hair, his fists pulling at the follicles. With some of my weight taken away, he grinds into me, slowly rolling his cock up and over my clit, drawing more moans from my throat. I lean back against the mirrored wall and watch the way his eyes feast on my swollen breasts. They ache to feel his fingers.
All too soon, the elevator doors ping open, and he walks with me wrapped around his waist into his apartment. I feel my back pressed up against the refrigerator, and he grinds into me again, letting me know just how turned-on he is. The feel of his solid cock against my soft pussy is maddening, and I let out helpless moans, one after the other.
He runs a hand from my throat to my chest and holds it there as if he’s keeping me literally at arm’s length. Then, slowly, he lowers me to the counter. When the bare skin of my ass touches down, I jump.
“It’s cold, huh?” A slow, devastating wink. “I’ll warm you up in no time.”
He leans forward and catches my bottom lip between his teeth. His warm breath caresses my skin as his tongue chases the sharp graze his teeth left behind.
A wilt of a moan passes from my mouth to his, then I glance down at his pants. They’re wet.
He follows my gaze, and a darkness drapes over him. “I came when I was licking you out.”
“You . . . But?—”
