Page 51 of In Your Eyes
“I love making you feel good.” I wrapped my arm around his waist and held him against me as I rolled us onto our sides. Then I curled myself around him and slid my other arm under his head as a pillow. “And I love making you scream,” I whispered and then kissed his nape. “It turns me on so much.” I was still tied to him, so I rolled my hips, reminding him that I was there, deep inside his body.
“You’re amazing at that.” He sighed contentedly. “Seriously amazing. Like ‘I’ll be begging for it again and again on a daily basis’ amazing, but”—he turned his head and landed his sparkling gaze on mine—“we have to move out of this house, because I won’t be able to look your mom in the face if she hears the way you make me scream.”
Chapter 16
ASITturned out, Korban’s begging was more frequent than he predicted. Although begging might not be the right description because he didn’t need to use words. He simply took me in hand and stroked me until I woke up, then he shoved his tongue in my mouth and climbed onto my erection, riding us both into sweaty, sticky oblivion. Twice.
“Are you awake?” I whispered into his ear the next morning as I caressed his flank.
We were chest to chest. Our legs were tangled together, he had his arm curled around my waist, and I had mine wrapped around his back.
“Uh-huh. You want to go again?” he said, slurring his words because he wasn’t fully awake. “We can go again.”
Chuckling, I squeezed his hip. “Want? Definitely. But as much as I wish I could stay here locked away with you all day, I can’t. And neither can you. The packs need us.”
“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head and buried his face under my chin. “Don’t wanna.”
It was hard not to laugh at his antics. “Quit acting like a child. You’re an Alpha.”
“I’m tired. You fucked me into the mattress twice last night.”
“Three times.”
He raised his head and blinked his eyes open. “Oh yeah.” A slow smile spread across his face. “That third time was really something. How’d you think of that position?”
Heat flowed up my neck and cheeks. “I wasn’t, uh, thinking, really. I was just moving and, um… you liked it?”
I had rolled Korban onto his right side, pushed his left leg up to his chest, and then bent over him and pounded into his hole.
“I came without touching my dick and shot so hard I hit my chin. And that was the third time that night. So, yeah.” He nodded. “I liked it.” He paused, tilted his head to the side, and looked at me appraisingly. “Are you blushing?”
“No, I… uh, maybe.” I ducked my head.
“You are! You’re blushing. You’re the one who did the act, but hearing me say the words has you burning up.” He rolled me onto my back and peppered my face with kisses. “That’s very cute and it makes me want to do all sorts of really dirty things to see if those embarrass you too.”
“Okay, let’s get ahold of ourselves here. We have a plan for today, and if we don’t get out of bed, we’ll never….” His words finally registered. “What kinds of dirty things?” I shook the thought away, trying to focus. “Never mind. We need to get out of bed, shower, eat, and then go to Miancarem.”
“Fine,” he sighed dramatically and then climbed off me. “You’re a spoilsport.” He slid off the bed. “But don’t worry. I’ll demonstrate some of those dirty things when we get home tonight.”
He sauntered into the bathroom, shaking his firm butt, and I focused on not swallowing my tongue.
“Samuel?” Korban called out right as the shower started running. “I think we can do one of those dirty things in here and keep it relatively clean. Are you coming?”
I did. And so did he. And we both screamed.
He was right. We needed to find a place of our own. Living with my mother and siblings was absolutely not an option.
“YOU’REALIVE,”Dennis Keller said when he opened his front door and laid eyes on Korban. “Why are you still alive?”
It wasn’t the most welcoming of welcomes.
“Hi, Dennis,” Korban said. “I’m not sure how to answer that question. I feel like maybe I should respond with that quote from that guy about his death reports being exaggerated.”
“Mark Twain,” I whispered.
“What?” Korban turned to me.
“The quote you’re talking about. ‘Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.’ That was Mark Twain. But did you know those weren’t his exact words?” I said excitedly. “What he actually said was—”
