Page 97 of Twisted Shot
This is a position he’s dreamed of. Her above him,vulnerable but powerful, her thighs parted, inviting him to devour. The heat in her eyes reflects his own, and it nearly undoes him.
Theo starts at her ankle, his lips pressing soft kisses there. He trails higher, mouth warm against her calf, then her knee, his hands firm on her thighs, thumbs sweeping in slow, possessive strokes that sayminewithout a word.
When his palms slide up and part her legs, the heat between her thighs draws him in like gravity. She’s already wet, her arousal scenting the air, and it hits him like a drug—earthy and sweet, raw and dizzying. He breathes it in like oxygen, dragging his tongue along the inside of her thigh until she’s trembling. When he flicks his tongue against her through the soaked lace of her panties, her moan is low and broken, her hips jerk forward, back arching, hands flying to his hair and gripping tight.
He fucking loves that, groaning at the feel of her pulling him closer, at the helpless way she moves under his mouth. The power of it, of having her so open, so completely undone for him, unravels every scrap of patience he has left.
He teases her through the fabric, slow, maddening strokes of his tongue that have her writhing beneath him, legs trembling.
“Theo, more,” she gasps, thighs falling apart wider, her whole body an invitation he never wants to stop answering. Her cries make his cock throb, but this moment is not about him. Not yet. This is for her.
She gasps his name, begging for more, and when he finally slides her panties down, dragging them along her thighs and casting them aside, he stares at her for one aching moment. She’s slick and glistening, perfect and pink, and the raw hunger that hits him is blinding.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “You’re perfect.”
He lifts one of her legs, places a kiss against her ankle, then settles it over his shoulder. His hands grip her thighs again, holding her open as he presses his mouth to her, groaning into her heat as he finally, finally tastes her.
She cries out, and it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.
His tongue moves with reverence, with absolute worship. Every stroke matches the slow push of his fingers inside her, first one, thenanother, filling her while his mouth works her clit, learning her reactions like a man possessed.
She moves against him with abandon, grinding against his face, breathless and gasping, her moans turning frantic as she climbs higher. He doesn’t let up. He wants her to come like this, undone by his mouth, marked by the heat of his tongue and the shape of his name in her throat.
Her cry is raw and desperate, her body clenching tight around his fingers as her orgasm hits, powerful and consuming, her hips jerking against his mouth as he holds her through it. He licks her slowly now, coaxing every tremor from her body, kissing her thighs, her hips, her center, until her breath evens out and her hands loosen in his hair.
And still, he holds her. Kissing her thighs softly, tasting the afterglow, worshiping the wreckage he’s made of her.
CHAPTER 36
MILA
Oh, my god.
Mila lies in a boneless sprawl, panting like she’s run a marathon. Her body hums, nerves sparkling under her super sensitive skin like little firecrackers as Theo scoops her up and positions her in the center of the bed, her head sinking into the pillow.
Her mind is fogged with lust, her skin flushed and tingling.
That man,she thinks hazily, pushing up onto her elbows,is going to ruin me in the best possible way.
She watches, wide-eyed and utterly entranced, as he unfastens his cufflinks and sets them on the dresser—forearms flexing, precise, unhurried. His hazel eyes, wild with desire, don’t stray from hers as he carefully undoes each button of his white dress shirt. When it slides from his shoulders, he drapes it over the back of a chair, like he doesn’t realize what the sight of him is doing to her.
The belt comes next, his fingers moving with maddening calm as he unbuckles it, then slides his pants down those powerful thighs, revealing swirling black tattoos she’s never seen before. Soft, dark hair dusts his skin. Every inch of him looks like sin carved in golden stone.
Her gaze drinks him in hungrily. The dim light in the hotel room casts a warm glow over his inked skin, painting shadows into everyline of his body. Her eyes follow the sharp dip of his hips, those V-shaped muscles guiding her stare to the straining black boxers stretched tight over his cock.
Jesus.Her thighs instinctively press together.
He’s hard. Thick. Ready. And hers.
She swallows hard, fingers itching to touch, to trace, to memorize every slope and solid line of him with her hands.
When he climbs onto the bed in nothing but those black boxers, her pulse spikes. He kisses her greedily, and she can taste herself on his lips.
She inhales deeply as he drags his lips across her jaw and down her neck. He smells delicious—spicy with a hint of musk.
His mouth travels lower, trailing fire down her chest to where her nipples strain beneath the lace of her bra. He reaches around and flicks open the clasp, letting the cups fall away as her breasts spill into the cool air.
Then his mouth is on her. Warm and wet and devastating.
