Page 253 of Legacy
And I swear, if I wasn’t already on my knees for her in every way that matters—this would’ve done it.
Temptation incarnate. Shirt slipping, eyes soft, lips parted in amusement, and completely unaware that every second she’s near me, I’m unraveling.
“You really have no idea, do you?” I murmur, stepping between her legs again. My hands slide up her thighs, slow, primal. “What you do to me.”
Her smile falters—not in fear, but in anticipation. She tilts her head, like she’s daring me. Like she wants me to earn her.
And fuck, I will.
“Show me then,” she murmurs, her eyes darkening with the challenge.
I lean in, lips grazing the curve of her throat. She’s warm, deliciously soft beneath my touch, and the contrast between us is gorgeous. Her curves melt into the hard lines of my body like she was shaped to fit against me. My hands roam freely now, tracing the indent of her waist, skimming the flare of her hips. Fingers linger on the bare skin where her shirt has ridden up. Every touch pulls a breath from her, a subtle arch that stokes the fire already roaring in my chest.
I guide her shirt up and over her head, slow, greedy for the sight of every inch. It hits the floor with a whisper.
Her breath hitches as my fingers toy at the waistband of her leggings. Her eyes find mine, wide and glassy, teeth tugging at her lower lip to trap the moan already threatening to slip. Her hands clutch at my shirt—weakly, needy.
“Always so impatient, Tesoro,” I murmur against her lips before kissing her, deep and claiming.
She answers with fervor, burying her fingers in my hair, pulling, holding, until I pull back and she lets go, smirking like she knows exactlywhat she’s doing to me. I tug on her leggings, and she lifts her hips in silent offering.
She spreads her legs with fluid grace, red silk between them, glistening.
My grin grows as I grab the nearest chair.
Her eyebrows lift. “What are you doing?” she whines.
“Preparing for my meal.”
Her breath falters. She fidgets under my gaze, thighs twitching slightly as I position the chair and sit, eyes locked on the feast in front of me.
“Look at you.”
Spread on my counter, thighs parted, soaked silk barely covering what’s mine.
I lean in and press a kiss to the inside of her thigh. She gasps, hands tightening in my hair.
“Angelo,” she moans, hips shifting, desperate for more.
I ignore the plea, for now, letting my mouth explore. Open-mouthed kisses trail along her thigh until I press my mouth against the damp silk.
I inhale her, and the groan that rips out of me is feral.
“Fuck, Scarlet.”
She tugs harder at my hair, her legs trembling. She’s soaked through.
I hook a finger beneath the silk and drag it down slow, savoring the way she shivers. Her thighs shake, breath coming in short little gasps. The second she’s bare, I take a moment to look,really look—and fuck, she’s perfect. Her pussy glistens with arousal, flushed and aching.
“S-stop teasing,” she whimpers, voice thick with need.
I chuckle low.
“You need fucking patience,” I growl, then press an open-mouthed kiss to her clit, slow, wet, reverent.
She cries out, hips jerking, a strangled whimper that pulses straight to my cock.
“Then teach me,” she gasps, her fingers tugging at my hair again.
