Page 33 of Reptile Dysfunction
“—will survive,” I finish, my voice rough with need. Sterling is already stretching toward her, his shimmering scales catching the amber light from my industrial fixtures. “Though some positions might require… creativity.”
Her laugh sends vibrations through me, low and promising. “Good thing I’m a writer. Gorgon, one thing I have plenty of is an active imagination. Especially when it involves that delicious body of yours.” The moment I set her down next to my bed, her fingers move to the top button of her blouse. “And I’m a Pilates instructor. That’s spelled f-l-e-x-i-b-l-e.”
The thought makes my cock throb, memories of her class flooding back—her body bending and stretching with controlled grace. My snakes perk up, all of them now watching her fingers work each button with agonizing slowness.
“I could help with that,” I offer, reaching toward her.
“Patience, Gorgon.” Her smile turns teasing as she steps just out of reach. “Consider this payback for all those times your snakes showed off during class.”
“They’re incorrigible,” I admit, but every single one of them is fixed on her now, not a hint of shame between them. Sterling unabashedly positions himself for the best view.
The final button comes undone, and Sloane lets the blouse slip from her shoulders. The black lace beneath is simple but devastating, her curves creating shadows and valleys that make my mouth go dry. My fingers itch to touch her, to trace every line and plane, to discover if she’s as soft as she looks.
“Your turn,” she challenges with a tip of her chin.
My t-shirt comes off in one fluid motion, revealing the tribal snake tattoos that wind down my left arm. My snakes rearrangethemselves automatically, creating a crown of interested observers.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” she murmurs, stepping forward to run her fingers along the inked patterns. Where she touches, my skin burns as if branded. When she reaches a particularly sensitive spot near my collarbone, I can’t suppress a low growl.
“Sensitive?” She traces it again, more deliberately this time.
“Very.” I capture her wrist, using my grip to tug her closer. “And running dangerously low on patience.”
“Show me,” she challenges, her blue eyes dark with desire.
This time when our lips meet, I consume her, drinking in her little gasps and sighs as my hands finally—finally—explore the curves I’ve been admiring since the first moment I saw her.
When we break apart, both breathless, I let my eyes shift to amber, pupils contracting to predatory slits as primal hunger takes hold. “What do you want from me?” I demand, the truth compulsion flowing between us like silk and lightning.
Her pupils dilate as the power settles over her, but instead of resistance, I see pure desire. “Everything,” she breathes, the word pulled from her by ancient magic and modern hunger. “I want everything you’ll give me.”
“And what will you give me in return?”
The compulsion wraps around her like a lover’s touch. “All of me. My body, my trust, my—” She catches herself, but the amber in my eyes intensifies.
“Your what?”
“My heart,” she whispers, the truth magic making the confession inevitable. “God help me, Thad, I want to give you my heart.”
Our kiss deepens, becomes something hungry and desperate. Her mouth opens under mine, and I taste the sweetness that’s purely her. My tongue sweeps against hers, claiming and exploring, while she makes desperate mewling sounds that drive me wild.
Her hands grip the back of my neck, careful of my snakes but bold in her desire. The gentle pressure sends shockwaves straight to my cock, and several of my snakes actually moan in response. When she nips at my lower lip, then soothes the sting with her tongue, my control fractures.
I press her down onto the bed, my body caging her in as I trail kisses down the column of her throat. She tastes like salt and want. It’s addictive. Her pulse pounds beneath my lips, and I can’t resist the urge to mark her there, to suck gently until she gasps my name.
Her skin feels like warm silk beneath my palms, impossibly soft compared to my calloused hands.
My snakes join the exploration. Sterling loops loosely around her throat in that claiming gesture that she seems to enjoy.When she moans in response, the vibration travels through him to me, creating a feedback loop of sensation.
“You like that,” I observe, trailing kisses down her jaw to the pulse point just below where Sterling rests.
“I like all of you,” she admits, her fingers sliding up and down my back, lingering at my hips as though she’s a general contemplating how to attack her goal. “Every part.”
The admission hits me harder than expected, a hook behind my ribs pulling tight. No one has ever embraced all of me—the enforcer, the swimming instructor, the monster with snakes for hair. Yet here she is, fingers gently stroking scales as naturally as if she were caressing skin.
“Take those off,” she orders, her hands reaching for the button of my jeans.
“Not yet.” I kneel before her, ignoring the twinge in my lower back. Some discomfort is worth enduring. “I’ve been thinking about this since you walked into my pool in those ridiculous shoes.”
