Page 97 of Blood & Throttle
She strokes once, slow and firm, dragging her hand up with a twist that makes my breath hitch.
The corner of her mouth curves, wicked and sweet all at once, before she leans in and wraps those pretty lips around me.
I groan, the sound ripping straight from my chest.
My hips jerk forward instinctively, but I hold back—barely—tightening my grip in her hair to stay grounded as she sets a rhythm.
Slow.
Steady.
Deliberate.
Her tongue flicks, teasing the underside with every pass, and I swear I see stars.
She hums low in her throat like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me, and she fucking does.
I can’t look away.
The sight of her like this—on her knees, willing, and fuckingmine—is branded into me deeper than any scar I carry.
I guide her rhythm with my hand tangled in her hair, not forcing, just steering, keeping her right where I want her. Where I know she wants to be. Her eyes flick up, meeting mine, and something primal cracks loose in my chest.
"Good girl," I rasp, the words rough as gravel.
She hums at the praise, the vibration traveling straight through me like a live wire.
My thighs tense. My grip tightens. My breathing turns savage, harsh in the stillness of the room.
She picks up her pace taking me deeper, working me with a mix of sweet torment and practiced precision, like shewantsto break me apart.
And fuck, she’s doing a damn good job of it.
My muscles lock and every nerve ending snaps tight.
“Fuck, Sin...” I growl through gritted teeth, hips jerking forward despite myself.
She takes it.
Takesallof it without hesitation, without fear, like she was made for this.
My hand fists harder in her hair, guiding her faster now, rougher, the edge coming at me like a freight train.
"Mine," I snarl, voice wrecked. "You fucking hear me?"
She moans in answer, low and needy, and that’s it.
I slam my hips up once, twice then spill into her mouth with a guttural sound torn straight from my soul.
White-hot pleasure rips through me, blinding and brutal.
I keep her there, holding her tight against me, feeling every last shudder, every last pulse, as she takes it all.
When I finally loosen my grip, she pulls back slowly, licking her lips, smirking up at me with those wicked fucking eyes.
She wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, casually, like she didn’t just ruin me.
“Guess I’m good for something after all,” she murmurs, voice hoarse, teasing.
