Page 113 of The Perfect Wrong

God.

Being so exposed, so wanted, makes me more self-conscious than last night. I still can’t believe this sex-crazed badass wants me with suchvigor.

But I’m starting to believe it’s true.

Especially as he pulls at my nipples, sucking each one into his mouth with a growl that vibrates through me to the bone.

The evil sensation makes me moan with delight.

Our bodies sing this fleshly duet, perfectly synced to taste and touch, scent and sight, lust and breath.

So perfectly wrong but so right.

I’m bursting at the seams.

Every sense comes alive like never before.

“Hands against the wall, princess. Bend, and I’ll do the rest,” he rumbles behind me, his voice boiling in my ear.

My breath catches, but I’m not protesting.

I’m just struggling to imagine his mouth working between my legs again, Chris mounting me from behind, his hand slapping my ass.

As if he’s read my mind, he sinks down on his knees, spreading my ass cheeks.

I can’t see his eyes, but I know he’s watching so intently it burns.

His gaze is all-consuming.

And his mouth finds my pussy from a new angle, his tongue darting over my seam.

My hips jerk from the sensation.

Good thing I’m braced against the wall.

If I was anywhere else, I’d fall right over.

I lean into it as he starts tonguing my clit.

This time, his licks alternate in hypnotic circles, slowly coalescing on my center before pushing deep inside my opening.

So deep.

His rough licks are worshipful.

He sucks without mercy.

His teeth drag me to the brink.

My vision blurs and muscles I didn’t know I had start to ripple, pulled taut by the pleasure.

“Let the fuck go, baby,” he orders, grabbing my thighs for support, holding me open. “I’ve got you, Delia, and I’m ready to savor every drop that gushes out of your hot little cunt when you come on my tongue.”

His mouth finds my clit again, completely merciless, but this time he adds two fingers, stroking my walls forcefully.

Oh, shit.

Oh, oh, oh!

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