Page 67 of Wicked Intentions (Wicked Games 3)
“Is this going to be a thing?” I ask, my arms wound around his broad shoulders. “You carrying me around like a sack of potatoes?”
“It makes me feel macho bein’ able to lift all this weight—ow!”
“Serves you right,” I grumble, releasing his earlobe from my front teeth. Then I feel guilty and kiss the spot I’ve just bitten, making him chuckle again.
“So she has a conscience after all,” he muses. “Who knew?”
“Shut up.”
“Put somethin’ in my mouth and make me.”
I roll my eyes at his suggestive wink. “It’s like you’re twelve.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”
He’s not insulted, just matter-of-fact. We arrive at the shower door. He sets me on my feet and, with no further ado, pulls my T-shirt over my head.
“Matching bra and panties,” he says, hungrily eying my underwear. “Lacy. Nice. Take ’em off.”
“You’re an incredibly pushy man, you know that?” I’m grousing but obeying at the same time, reaching around to unsnap my bra. When the straps fall down my arms and my breasts spring free, Ryan bites his lower lip.
“Yes,” he says, his voice husky. “Now get those fuckin’ panties off and let me look at you.”
I let my bra dangle from my fingertips for a moment because I love the way the delay makes his eyes burn. Then I let the bra drop to the floor, and slip my thumbs under the top of my panties, just over my hips.
“These panties?” I say, teasing. I do a little shimmy. He narrows his eyes.
“Tyrant,” I say, and edge the panties down an inch.
His gaze flashes up to mine. It’s a look that could ignite a forest fire.
I slide the panties down another inch. “You’re not the boss of me, you know that, right?”
“As soon as you get those goddamn panties off,” he growls, “I’m gonna prove you wrong, darlin’.”
How I’m beginning to adore that sleepy, slow Southern drawl. I never guessed a dropped g at the end of a word could be so sexy.
I push the panties past my hips. They slither down my legs and pool around my ankles. Ryan takes one long, silent look at me—head to toe, his gaze blistering—then drops to his knees, grabs my ass, pulls me into his face, and bites me right between my legs.
It’s not a hard bite. It’s just like…mine. This is mine, and I’m gonna bite it because I can, and I want to.
My entire body shudders. I’ve never been this aroused—this quickly—in my life.
Then he slips his tongue between my folds, and my arousal sprouts wings and launches into outer space. I dig my fingers into his hair and rock against his hot, wet mouth. My nipples tighten and tingle with every swipe of his tongue.
“That feels so good,” I whisper.
He opens his eyes and looks up at me. It’s almost painfully intimate, watching him suckle me on his knees as I struggle to remain standing. The sound of my ragged gasps echoes off the bathroom walls. When his teeth scrape over my clit, I moan.
He reaches down between his legs, yanks open his fly, grabs his erection in his fist and starts to stroke it as he eats me, looking up at me the entire time with hooded, heated eyes.
I love it that he likes to taste me. That the first thing he wants to do is put his mouth between my legs. It’s carnal, a little animal, and makes me feel sexy and dirty and gloriously desired.
I flex my hips in time to the strokes of his tongue and am rewarded by a low, guttural groan of approval deep from within his chest.
I arch back. My shoulders hit the glass shower wall with a hollow noise. Bracing my weight against the wall, I cant my hips forward and spread my thighs open wider. Ryan takes advantage of the new angle and plunges his tongue deep inside me.
My moan is loud and broken. My nipples are so hard, they ache. I’m panting, no longer simply flexing my hips but riding his face like a rodeo bull as he pumps his cock in his fist.
