Page 208 of Legacy
His mouth curves, slow, wicked. “No. Bedroom.”
And then he moves, shifting me in his lap, his hands sliding under my thighs, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing. My arms lock around his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist, the world tilting as he stands, his mouth crashing into mine again, all heat and hunger.
He carries me down the hall, the world a blur around us, my heart pounding syncing with his steps.
The bedroom door slams shut behind us.
He drops me onto the edge of the bed, standing over me, breathing hard, looking at me like he’s about to ruin me.
And I want him to.
I push my jeans down, hands shaking, dragging them over my hips and kicking them off. His eyes track every movement, darkening, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.
“Lie back,” he says.
I do.
My hair fans across the sheets, my legs parting as he steps between them, his hands sliding up my thighs, thumbs brushing over the lace, teasing, testing.
Then he drops to his knees.
His eyes find mine, blazing, holding me there.
“Keep your eyes on me, Scarlet.”
I swallow, my breath ragged, hands fisting in the sheets as his thumbs hook into the lace. His eyes flash dark, and then—he tears them, the sound sharp, final, the thin fabric giving way like it was nothing under his hands.
And then he lowers his head.
The first swipe of his tongue is slow, deliberate, dragging a moan from me so deep I don’t recognize my own voice. His stubble scrapes the inside of my thighs, the rough burn only making the heat sharper.
“Angelo,” I gasp, my hips arching, desperate.
He groans against me, the vibration shooting through my spine, his hands locking around my thighs, pinning me down as his tongue circles, flicks, tastes.
It’s filthy, the way he eats me.
Desperate.
My hand flies to his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands, tugging, and he groans, the sound vibrating against me, making me cry out.
His tongue is ruthless, dragging me higher, tearing sounds from me I didn’t know I could make. My thighs quiver around his shoulders, and I see it, the moment his control cracks, his hands tightening, nails digging into my skin like he needs to anchor himself to me.
“Fuck, Scarlet,” he groans against me, voice muffled, almost pained, and the vibration rips a sob from my chest. “You taste like every goddamn dream I’ve ever had.”
A sob catches in my throat. “Don’t. Don’t saythat—”
His head lifts, mouth wet, eyes blown black, feral. “Why? Because you want to pretend you don’t still fucking want this?” His thumb presses against my clit, sharp, and I jolt, a cry slipping out.
“Say it,” he demands, low, rough, guttural. “Say you want me. I need to hear it.”
My hips roll against his hand, helpless. “I want you.”
His mouth crashes back to my pussy, his filthy, claiming, tongue relentless as he demands, “Louder.”
“I want you, Angelo!” It tears from me, raw, needy, humiliating and freeing all at once.
His hands flex, pulling me closer, tongue flicking, sucking, dragging me to the edge so fast I can’t breathe. I’m shaking, sobbing, shattering, my body arching as he devours me like he’s starving, like he’s dying for this.
