Page 87 of Too Cursed To Kiss
His golden eyes narrowed again. “I have far more control over my needs than you can comprehend.” The air chilled, and his neck corded. He pressed his lips together in a hard line.
I gripped the bedpost. Making him mad was not what I had in mind, and it reminded me how dangerous he really was. So damned sexy. “Look, I’m sorry. I mean I don’t know, didn’t know… Fuck this. This is your fault, and I’m not apologizing, you bastard. You haven’t told me the whole truth or part of the truth. What you conceal from me affects me. This is a great example. Why don’t you show me first? Then I can decide what to do with you?” I straightened up, cocked my head, and crossed my arms, defining the challenge.
“Are you saying you want to see my real form, now?”
“I think I was pretty clear on that? Yes.”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because it will change how you feel to be with me. Have sex with me first, and then I will change for you.”
“Nope. You said I get to call the shots here, and I’m calling them.”
“Call all the shots you like. I think you know how much I want you, but I don’t need to do this,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed in a blur of motion.
“Wow, you’re actually shy about it.”
He whipped around. “Don’t bother with coercion. It won’t work. I have made my counteroffer. It stands. Let me know what you decide,” he said, picking up his shirt where he’d dropped it on the chair.
Damn him.
I launched myself at his back, my hands circling around to his chest. He stiffened at my touch and turned to face me.
“Fuck you. Show me everything,” I rasped as I captured his lips. His clove wine-soaked mouth devoured mine, meeting with the passion that I poured into him. I walked him back to the bed, unwilling to break the kiss. My tongue darted around his, and his sharp teeth nicked my tongue. The tang of iron joined the sensation. He growled low and ground himself against me as he climbed on top of me on the bed. I traced down the length of the rock hard ridge bulging against the leather, and he gasped into my mouth.
He pulled back and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. The smoothness of him was an illusion, but my God he was gorgeous. My dress straps were off, and the bodice was unlaced and to my waist before I could think about it. His almond eyes glowed as he studied my throat, breasts, and the silver scar on my side from the bike accident when I was ten. Neither of us moved. My heart hammered as I stilled. Like being caught in the gaze of a predator and freezing before they made their first move. The game-on moment.
“Beautiful,” he trailed a finger over a breast, grazing a nipple. My breath caught.
He moved like lightning hitting water, my lips opening ashis mouth found mine, and his tongue plunged into me. His hands massaged, pinched, and stroked as our tongues wove tapestries. I couldn’t get close enough to his softness, absorbing the heat radiating from him, as close to the fire as I could get.
He broke away, sniffing me in the deep places, neck, and armpits. “I love the way you smell.” The sound of his huffing pleasure had already liquefied me. Burying his face in the curve of my neck, he snuffled his way down my body. Goosebumps rippled down my arms as my hair stood to his attention.
Then his tongue came out.
I froze with the first long languid lick of chamois smoothness that left a wet trail splitting me from navel to thigh. He slid his hands over my hips and then down my thighs, turning me into writhing mush. I gasped when he dipped his head and began to lap my inner thighs, languidly licking and sniffing me.
Then he buried his face between my legs.
I think I screamed. Who remembers these things? Between the licking, the hands moving, and the sniffing, I was on a ride that stripped me to my core. The orgasm was world-splitting, like biting into a chocolate cherry. An explosive crack of the shell and then the sweetness oozing out.
Left boneless, he slid over me, kissing me again, my salty sweetness mingling with the musky taste of him. I pushed him sideways and rolled on top of him. He still had his pants zipped. That needed to change.
When I grabbed his waistband, he stilled. His yellow eyes glowed at me as I fumbled with the button, releasing the zipper like a sacred ritual unveiling, allowing time for every tooth of metal to unlatch until his pants gaped. When Imoved to slide my fingers inside his pants, he grabbed my wrist.
“No, let me. I need to show you myself.” With gentle hands, he rolled over me again, but he caught my other wrist in his massive one and kept both wrists pinned above my head with one hand while he ran the other over my bare skin, making trails if he was preparing me for something. When he got to my navel, I squirmed, my eyes glued to what he was doing with his pants.
“Be still for me?” he asked, letting go of my wrists. He cupped a breast and dipped to suckle it. Then dragging the nipple between his teeth, he began to lick my breasts with his long pink tongue, like they were the best flavor of ice pop. The sensation of sand and velvet turned me into a squirming snake, but the saliva effect trapped me in a frozen puddle of pleasure. The bastard could read my mind, but I didn’t care. It only made it much hotter.
He stood up, his yellow eyes burning with a passion that I’d only dreamt about and plunged his hand into his open fly.
From his pants, he pulled out the largest erection I’d ever seen. How it even fit in his pants was a marvel to consider. How could I not have noticed? He stood there waiting for me to do something while my stomach fluttered with consideration, and my limbs worked again.
I sat up and licked the tip of it while I held his eyes. He groaned and held his position.
Patient. Considerate. Desiring.
