Page 203 of The Wicked
She raised a brow. “Like what?”
“Sir.I like how you say it.”
She raised her hand, her fingers disappearing into my hair, the feeling as exhilarating as the first time she performed that very action. “And I like how transparent you are with your emotions. It’s new. Men are always—”
I shook my head. “I don’t care about what men always do. I feel it; I say it. Like I once told you, beating around the bush is for children.”
She smiled, eyes softening, fingers caressing my scalp. “The world would be chaos if everyone had the same reasoning as you.”
“I know.” I leaned close to her until my nose was buried in the crook of her neck, my tongue strutting out to lick her warm skin before my lips sucked on the tender spot. I felt her body arch slightly from the bed, shuddering breath leaving her parted lips. Pride filled me. “I’m mostly this way because I crave the chaos,” I muttered before moving higher, my tongue exploring before I left a bruise.
There was an aching strain against my briefs, bringing the annoying realization that I still had my slacks on. But I loved the pleasuring pain created from the anticipation of making her moan and writhe beneath and atop me, making her brand this moment to memory for as long as she breathed.
“You keep leaving hickeys like that, some people might put two and two together,” she said, voice breathy.
“Their funerals if they have enough courage to voice their suspicion,” I mumbled as my hand brushed the side of her thigh, up to the curves of her hip, and then settled on her waist, her nightgown creasing and lifting, exposing skin, and fueling my addiction.
I loved the way she tasted, the way she smelled, the little breaths that kept escaping her lips, the soft tugs she gave my hair when my lips traveled down her neck to her collarbone while my hand fisted the hem of her dress, pushing it up until her bare chest was left on full display for me. I allowedmy eyes to trail down her body, wondering how the fuck I had seen her for the first time and had zero attraction towards her.
Something changed. Maybe it was her smart mouth or those freckles scattered here and there on her skin, some covering scars, some forming constellations, some just being alone, waiting for a lover’s kiss.
Her body was meant to be worshipped—a religion to remain unseen to all but me.
The red thong she wore was begging to be carelessly handled and ripped apart by me, but a light glint of metal drew my attention to her perky nipples, and my need to rip off her underwear was halted when I wrapped my lips around one pierced nipple. The metallic taste condemned me to a subject that answered silent commands from her moans of pleasure.
I fucking loved the sounds she was making; they did unsanctified things to me.
My tongue swirled around the metal, sucking and drawing out a moan and a tug of my hair from her. My other hand moved from holding her gown to cupping her other breast, my thumb teasing her nipple as she held the dress up.
I gave her nipple a punishing suck, and she hissed after I released her. I watched her lust-filled eyes regard me with flimsy malice.
“Motherfucker.” She cursed me.
I squinted. “That’s a far cry fromsirorDad.”
“It’s not a far cry fromasshole.”
My gaze moved to her shoulder, settling on the scar from my bullet on her skin. “That’s a fine-looking scar,” I reminded her.
“I’ll be sure to return the favor in the near future.”
“I like the way you keep making me look forward to the future.”
Before she could comment, I kissed the underside of her breast, feeling the fast beating of her heart as I pressed heated but feather-light kisses down her stomach. The moment I heardthe hitch of her breath and felt the flex of her stomach when my lips explored, my hand traveled ahead of my mouth.
Softly, I traced my finger along the hemline of the thong. I licked and pressed my lips into every contour of her stomach.
An overwhelming desire bellowed through me. I couldn’t stop my hand from disappearing between her legs, touching her soft heat that begged for attention, attention that I was eager to give… then take away… and then give.
You wouldn’t blame me; I was curious to know what other names she would call me aside from “motherfucker” and “asshole.”
My fingers took time to explore her waist before they trailed down to her middle, cupping her soaked underwear, while my lips kissed down her navel and to the line of the red material covering her from me.
I lifted myself a little, reaching to pull it off her, and she helped, rising as I dragged the thong down her legs and threw it to a corner.
Zahra was quick to take off her robe and then the nightdress. “You really love being naked,” I observed.
“And you have too many clothes on.”
