Page 118 of Bitten & Burned
I sobbed his name, one hand clutching the sheets, the other still buried in his hair.
“Cassian—fuck—please?—”
He hummed, the vibration sending me spiraling.
“Don’t hold back,” he growled. “Let me have it.”
And I did.
I shattered with a cry, thighs trembling, body convulsing against his mouth as he held me there, licking me through every wave until I was twitching with overstimulation. Wet and whimpering.
Only then did he pull back, fingers sliding out of me slowly and controlled.
I was shaking. Barely coherent.
“I… gods, Cassian… fuck…”
Cassian crawled up the bed, eyes never leaving mine. He kissed me—slow and deep, letting me taste myself on his tongue. I moaned into it, giving in to the ruin he offered.
He hovered above me, one hand braced beside my head, the other brushing my cheek like I was precious.
“I’m not done with you,” he whispered. “Not even close.”
He hovered above me, still fully clothed, looking down like I was dinner. Well, I suppose I justwas. His hand brushed my cheek again, thumb ghosting over my bottom lip.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured.
“I want more,” I whispered. “Please.”
His eyes darkened.
“Then give it to me,” he said. “All of it. Give me your surrender.”
The words didn’t make me hesitate. They let me breathe.
I reached up, wrapped my arms around his neck, and nodded. “It’s yours.”
Cassian growled—low and satisfied—then leaned in, kissing me hard, devouring me as if something inside him had finally snapped. His hands moved fast now, pushing the sheets down, the blankets away, then stripping off his clothes with sharp efficiency.
I couldn’t look away. His body was beautiful—muscle, scars, and sheer lethal grace. He caught me staring, and his smile turned dark and amused.
“You like what you see, little dove?”
I nodded, cheeks burning.
“Good,” he said, settling between my legs. “Because it’s all for you.”
He reached down and stroked himself once, slow and firm, and the sound I made was half gasp, half prayer.
Then he leaned over me, bracing himself with one hand while the other slid to my throat.
Not choking. Not pressing. Just present.
His palm wrapped around the base of my neck, fingers resting like a question.
“Still with me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
