Page 117 of The Sweetest Obsession

When his fingers hook in the fabric, I’m breathless.

He stretches it away from my flesh, cutting sizzling movements against my pulsing, wet lips.

I rise up with a cry, sinking my teeth into his bottom lip before he shreds my panties.

He actually tears them in two as he tosses them aside.

Holy shit!

I try to cling desperately, but he breaks the fusion of our lips, catching my eye with a devilish smile—right before his mouth descends on my jaw and I finally start to get what it means to bedevoured.

His lips and teeth are everywhere.

Sucking, biting, skating down my throat, across my shoulders, my collarbones.

It’s an onslaught I’m powerless to defend against as every sting of pleasure just keys me up higher and higher until I’m writhing chaos, kicking my feet against the sheets, curling my toes, clutching at his hair—and fisting a handful as he takes my nipple into his mouth.

“Grant!”

I’m so gone.

The suction, the wetness, the heat—oh, the heat—I feel it plunging to my depths like lava.

My vision whites.

My breath stalls.

It can’t be.

But it is.

Unbelievably, I’m already coming.

Grant flipping Faircross just owns me that good.

And judging from his rough growls, he enjoys every evil second of taking me apart, leaving me speechless and still begging his name with every breath.

His tongue continues marching across my skin when he’s done with my nipples.

Down, down.

The swell of my breast.

The slope of my stomach.

My upper thighs, my inner thighs, his face sliding down my twisting body, and then—

I feel his breath.

There.

The scratch of his beard, high on my inner thighs.

His shoulders, pressing my legs apart, forcing me open, exposing me to the heat of his skin invading my most secret places.

I rake my fingers through his hair, the nerves drawn up tight inside me as I look at him with my eyes narrowed.

“G-Grant...”

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