Page 106 of The Perfect Wrong

I am simmering.

Dangerously ready for the dark, reckless ride he’s promised.

Craning my face down near his belt, I plant a kiss right in the hills and ridges of his abs, total perfection sculpted by life and death in the balance.

How many times have those abs helped him save lives?

He runs his hand through my long dark hair, twining it around his fingers.

He pulls tight.

My face tilts up and he reaches down with his free hand, starting on his belt.

“Do the rest, babe. Take my cock andsuck.Been thinking about your lips wrapped around me ever since our first night on the beach,” he rasps, his eyes incandescent.

I can barely breathe, watching as his pants fall open.

Somehow, I steady my hands as I reach around him, pushing his pants and boxers down.

His cock snaps out, angry and so thick it’s obscene.

Whoa. Was his dad a centaur?

If I ever thought “big hands, big feet” was just a phrase...

I don’t even know if I should be scared or laughing or just quietly worshipping every pulsing inch of him.

He’swaybigger than anything I imagined.

So girthy he can split me apart with ease.

So I grip him carefully by the base, moving up, stopping just under his swollen head.

His fist closes over mine, adding the kind of pressure he must enjoy.

“Stroke me, Delia.Harder.Imagine that hand is your pussy.” He’s teaching me how to please him, and I’m so eager to learn it hurts.

My free hand slides between my legs, unable to resist toying with my clit as I pump him up and down.

“Yeah, goddamn,” he groans, rolling his head back. “There, there. Don’t fucking stop.”

The delicious edge in his throat makes me imagine he’s stolen his dragon’s voice, my touch awakening this fantastic beast inside him.

I’m so terrible.

I stop rubbing my clit just long enough to lower my mouth down his shaft.

“Shit!” he growls through his teeth, tugging my hair.

I watch the green gems in his face brighten.

He’s hot, hard, salty.

I’m bathed in his intoxicating scent and I like it.

My body hums with delight, imagining his smell rubbed all over me, that manly shadow of earthiness and testosterone and power marking me.

“Deeper. Go deeper if you can. I want your little tongue everywhere, Delia. Fuck—yeah, yeah—just like that.” His voice is an octave lower, his throat tighter. I moan around his fullness. “Did I say stop playing with your clit? Keep that pussy hot for me.”

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