Page 223 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

He stares at my exposed body for a few seconds, his nostrils flaring.

Hot damn.

He looks at me like he’s been starving himself for weeks and I’m the gourmet meal he’s spent every day thinking about.

“It should be a fucking crime to look this good.” He grips my waist, jerking me closer and spreading my thighs apart.

I know what his intentions are before he even makes a move, and I’ll be damned if I allow this to be one-sided.

I smack my palm to his chest. “Take your clothes off.”

Kane raises a brow, a sexy, familiar smirk stretching his mouth. Then he’s stripping, starting with his shirt and kicking his jeans and briefs down his legs.

“That what you had in mind?” He fists his cock, pumping himself under my gaze.

God, I’ve missed him.

I’ve missed everything about him, but his cock ranks pretty damn high on the list.

It feels like my skin is on fire.

And not in a good way.

The desire pricking at my flesh is unbearable, damn near maddening.

“Now, where were we?” He lowers his mouth to my pussy, biting down on my inner thigh and making me cry out in frustration.

This isn’t enough.

I can’t take his teasing, and I sure as hell can’t take having to wait for my orgasm.

“No, I need…” I can’t bring myself to say it.

“What? You don’t want me to? We both know how much you love my tongue, don’t you, baby?” He continues to spread kisses everywhere except where I need him most, his mouth latching onto my pelvic bone and staying there long enough to drive me insane. His breath cascades down my core, and I clench.

“No, I… More.” I squirm, my brain failing to form a sentence.

“I’ll give you anything you want after I’m done.”

A frustrated growl leaves my lips, and he laughs, gripping my hips and pinning me down, effectively immobilizing me. Then he’s dragging his tongue along the crease of my pussy.

It’s just one sharp lick.

One lick and he’s moving away.

But it has me losing my mind.

“Fuck me. I need you to fuck me,” I manage to say.

He lets out a sharp breath, eyes widening, but he doesn’t let my request throw him off his game.

“Not before you’re dripping all over my fucking face.”

That’s when I know I won’t survive our last night together.

Not unless I take control.

I grip his shoulder and push him backward onto the couch.

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