Page 172 of Mine Again
I lower my mouth to her chest, latching onto one perfect breast. I suck her deep, swirling my tongue around her nipple before grazing it with my teeth. Her moan rips through me like a lightning strike. She arches into my mouth, thighs tightening around my waist as if she needs me closer, deeper, more.
And I give it to her.
I feast on her greedily. Tongue flattening, I lick broad strokes over her soft flesh before moving to the other side. I drag my mouth across her sternum, savoring the taste of her skin, then take her other nipple between my lips. I worship it the same way, sucking, rolling it with my tongue, nipping hard enough to draw another groan from her.
She tastes like everything I lost. Everything I burned for. And I’m never letting her go again.
“No one will ever touch you like this,” I say, low, almost guttural. “No one else will ever hear how you whimper for more. Or feel how your hips buck when I scrape my teeth across this perfect body.”
Her lips part, her breath catching as our eyes lock.
“Only me.”
I drag my tongue slowly across her nipple again, watching her writhe.
Her fingers tighten in my hair, her voice breathless but sure.
“Only ever you,” she whispers.
It’s a vow, given so freely, so willingly, it flips a switch inside me.
There’s no restraint left.
My need spikes. I need her like blood, like breath, like absolution.
I groan against her skin, the sound raw and desperate even to my own ears. My hands slide to her waist. I wrap my arm around her back and roll us.
Now she’s beneath me, her hair fanned out over the pillows like a dark halo, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen from my kisses.
The sight alone is enough to ruin me.
I reach down between us and grab the last thing in my way. But I don’t slide off her panties. I tear them… like I should have done with her nightshirt. She’ll never wear one again in our bed. Not when I need to feel every inch of her, skin to skin.
The thin lace splits easily in my hands, and her gasp only drives me harder. I throw the scraps aside and press my body to hers as she pushes at my waistband, her hands urgent.
“Off,” she pleads, voice thick with desperation. “Luca, please…”
I rise just enough for her to push the fabric past my hips. I kick them off the rest of the way and lower myself again, molding myself to her body. Her heat against me is unbearable. Perfect.
I press my forehead to hers, breathing hard.
“Need you,” she pleads, breath hot against my lips. “Now.”
That’s it. My control snaps.
I grip her thigh and spread her open. Then I thrust into her in one deep, claiming stroke.
We both cry out.
Her back bows. And I sink deeper, until I’m all the way home.
“Mine,” I growl. “Mine.”
My mouth finds hers once more. Not soft but fierce, intense.
This kiss is possession.
Worship. Devotion. Desperation.
