Page 103 of The Bronze Garza
Gripping him harder, I tilt my head and kiss him deeper, wanting more—gushesinstead of drips. I want todrown.
We break apart when he throws me down onto the bed. With sparks of fire in his eyes, he glares down at me like I’m offensive, chest heaving.
The thin satin of my nightgown gives way down my thighs, bunching in silky ripples around my hips. Slowly, I let my legs fall apart, luring him.
Hate and restraint wrestles with desire and greed in his eyes, and he rakes his teeth over his bottom lip in a way that can’tnotbe painful.
Resent it or not, he’s hate-fucking me tonight.
Battle lost, he crawls above me, and before he can, I take his face in my hands and kiss him. Irreverently, hungrily, thirstily. He growls low in his throat as our tongues lap around each other, rubbing, laving, feeding.
He grinds his erection at my center, and a long, shivering moan transfers from my mouth to his.
Ohgod, yes,this...Pressure...
Again and again, he grinds against me, soothing the thick, throbbing ache I’ve been suffering and enduring for days.
As if rejoicing, blasts of pleasure spreads from that spot throughout my body, ripple after ripple after ripple. I dig my fingers into his skin and roll my hips to meet his hardness.
I haven’t felt sensations like this since college. I’m so close to orgasming it’s embarrassing. But I’m afraid to come. If I do, he won’t take it further than this. At the same time, I can’t stop rocking against his erection, can’t stop kissing him. His kiss is like drugs, his lips like sugar, and I…can’t…stop. I don’twantto stop. I’m so close. So—”
He stops, and I whimper in protest.
As he draws back onto his knees, he glides his hands down my inner thighs. They settle at my hips, gripping the waistband of my panties in his fists. On a heaved breath, he drifts his gaze up to mine. And it’s so intense, soangry, so hot.
Do it. You don’t need permission. I’m yours. Do it.
With a feral groan, he rips them down and off. Cool air drifts across my sex, and the ache, thethrobbingache, returns.
A hiss whistles through his teeth as he brushes his knuckles against my folds. “Fuck, you’re glistening.”
On its own, my pelvis jerks upward, my sex quivering, starving.
“Settle,” he orders me through a hoarse breath.
Not possible. I’m a coiled ball of need and desperation right now.
With the heel of his palm, he applies pressure to my clit, then makes small, tight circles. Andholyfreakingwowthat feels amazing.
Pleasure rockets through me and I grip the sheets and mewl. “Oh, yes, please, don’t stop...don’t stop doing that...don’t stop…”
With his other hand, he slides a finger inside me. My greedy walls immediately start clenching around it. But he withdraws it, lifts it to his mouth, and sucks off my arousal. Through lidded eyes, I watch it all, driven closer and closer to the edge as he rubs me with his palm.
“Know how you taste, Lyra?”
Legs trembling, I shake my head.
Again, he slides his finger inside my slick, wet heat, withdraws it, then leans forward and smears it across my lips.
No hesitation, my tongue darts out and laps it up.
“How do you taste, Lyra?”
It’s impossible to describe what I taste like, so I shake my head. It’s sexy and arousing, but to put it into words…
“Trouble,” he growls at me, “and temptation and fucking worship.” His eyes close, and he breathes heavily, his face twisting like he’s in agony. “And a taste isn’t enough.”
With that, he jerks my hips upward and dives down between my thighs.
