Page 80 of Carnal Urges
The air is cool on my bare skin. My face is hot. I can’t seem to draw a deep enough breath.
When he finally touches me, I’m so wound up, I jerk.
“Easy,” he murmurs, sliding his hands along the curve of my waist. He’s bent over me, one knee on the bed, eyes ravenous. He slides his hands up my rib cage and under my breasts, cupping them and squeezing.
I arch into his hands. My lids slide shut. When I feel his hotmouth close around my rigid nipple, I moan softly. A flush of heat between my legs makes me rub my thighs restlessly together.
“Aye, lass,” he whispers against my flesh. “Give me that sweetness. Give me everything you’ve got to give.”
He goes back and forth between my hard nipples, licking and sucking, worshipping me with his mouth. Just when I think I can’t stand another minute without begging again, he kisses a soft trail down my stomach to my belly button. He swirls his tongue around, dipping it in and out, then flicks open the button on my jeans.
When I whimper, he chuckles.
He pulls down the zipper so slowly, I almost scream. He nuzzles his nose into the flesh above my panties. He licks and bites me there while at the same time rhythmically pinching my nipples. Then he takes the hem of my panties between his teeth and tugs on it, dragging it against my swollen clit.
I arch against the bed, sink my fingers into his hair, and moan.
He rises to push my arms back. He pins my handcuffed wrists in one of his big hands and gazes down at me, blue eyes burning hot. “Hands above your head. Don’t move unless I give you permission.”
“I’m sensing a theme here,” I say, panting.
“Aye. And you just bought yourself another spanking.”
“Oh, darn.”
“And another.” He smiles. “But I won’t let you come during either of them.”
My eyes widen in horror. His smile turns into a low, satisfied chuckle.
He peels my jeans off my legs, angrily flinging them away like he never wants to see them again. Then he stares at me lying there shaking and licks his lips.
I ache to feel his tongue between my legs. I ache to feel him inside me. My skin burns, my heart pounds, and I’m more frightenedthan I can ever remember being, because this is never how it is for me.
I’m not the girl who gets butterflies. I’m not the girl who swoons or begs. I’m the one who moves on before things get complicated, who keeps moving on relentlessly without looking back, like a shark that has to keep swimming forward its whole life or it will die.
I’m the one who doesn’t fall. Who doesn’t feel. Who doesn’t get attached.
Ever.
To make matters worse, Declan sees me struggling.
He lies on top of me, settles his weight between my spread legs, and cradles my head in his hands. Looking into my eyes, he says in a husky voice, “You’re safe with me. You can let your guard down. I’ll catch you if you need to fall.”
That hurts like a knife plunged into my heart.
I turn my head, suck in a hard breath, and close my eyes.
He puts his mouth near my ear and whispers, “You can’t hide from me. I see you. I see all the strange and wonderful things you are, little lion.”
My voice choked with emotion, I say, “I’m not little. And I’m not yours.”
“Aye, you are, if only for tonight. We’ll deal with everything else in the morning.”
He kisses me then, hard and demanding. It feels like he’s staking a claim.
When I’m sure I can’t contain the emotion building in my chest one second longer, he breaks the kiss, picks me up, and carries me into the bathroom.
TWENTY-THREE
