Page 242 of Legacy
I roll my eyes at his delight.
“If you want me to stop you’re going to have to use words Scarlet,” he murmurs, voice thick with promise.
I don’t.
I can’t.
Because I don’t want him to.
His mouth crashes against mine—hard, hungry, teeth clashing. I bite his lip, and he growls, low and vicious, shoving his tongue into my mouth like he owns it.
He does.
I arch up, grinding against him, the kiss turning messy, spit-slick, desperate, like we’re trying to swallow each other whole.
When he breaks away, I gasp for air, but he doesn’t give me a second. His mouth drags down my throat, biting, sucking, leaving marks I know he wants everyone to see.
Lower.
Lower.
His teeth graze the underside of my breast, and he pauses, breath hot, voice rough.
“You have no idea how many nights I wanted this.”
Heat slams through me. My thighs clench, slick and aching, and I want to snap back, but my mouth goes dry.
He smirks against my skin, kissing just above my tattoo, licking across it like he’s branding me.
My hips buck, trying to get his mouth where I need it, but he doesn’t rush. He nips at my nipple before sucking it hard, pulling a sharp cry from me as pleasure rips down my spine.
“Fuck, you taste amazing,” he mutters, his voice ruined, hungry, and it wrecks me.
He drags his tongue lower, biting along my ribs, nipping at the dip of my waist, and every second he’s not where I need him feels like torture.
“Angelo—” It’s a broken plea, but it’s all I can manage.
“Patience,” he drawls, dragging his teeth along my hip, his fingers digging into my thighs as he pushes them wider, spreading me open.
My face burns, but it’s nothing compared to the heat pulsing between my legs as he stares down at me, licking his lips like he’s about to feast.
And he does.
His tongue slides over my clit in one slow, devastating lick, and I choke on a scream, my hips lifting off the bed, seeking more.
He groans into me—actually groans, and the vibration shoots straight through my core.
“Taste so fucking sweet,” he mutters, dark eyes flicking up to mine, locking me in place as he goes back in.
His tongue flicking, circling, flattening over my clit until I’m shaking, thighs trembling around his shoulders.
“Fucking look at me,” he orders, and I do, eyes locked on his as he drags me closer to the edge with every relentless stroke of his tongue.
“Please Angelo.”
He groans, sliding two fingers into me without warning, stretching me as his tongue keeps working, filthy and precise, curling his fingers to hit that spot that has me seeing stars.
“Tell me you want more,” he rasps against me, lips wet, voice dark, and I can’t answer. I can only moan, broken and needy, as my body starts to unravel.
