Page 138 of The Sweetest Obsession

And I’m hard in an instant at the thought, especially when I feel her flesh yielding under me as I sink into her kiss, twining tongues before I take the fuck over.

I’m a demanding fuck in bed.

I need to be.

Need to own her, to possess her, to claim her, to make every inch of her mine.

I’m hardly aware I’m shredding her clothes.

She hisses when it bites into her flesh before being dragged away.

I’m pure hunger tonight, ravenous as hell to have her skin under my fingers.

And Philia’s so soft to the touch.

My fingers sink into lush thighs and curving hips, the hot round swells of her breasts.

I goddamned well devour her with my hands, never breaking away from a kiss that leaves our mouths wet as I savage her with teeth and needy tongue-thrusts, starving to taste her.

In mere seconds she’s thrashing under me in total sweet surrender, her mouth slack and needy, her nipples hard against my palms.

I can’t fucking wait.

I feel like I’ve got ten damn years to make up for and I want to brand her into my flesh until my hands remember the feel of her even when we’re apart.

So I touch her everywhere, finding the forbidden places that make her moan against my lips, that shake her apart. Everywhere that makes her go so tense she’s trembling.

Her tongue lashes mine with silent curses that only encourage me more.

I’m possessed, thumbing her nipples, framing her waist with both hands, sliding over her hips, spreading her wide for me.

“So fucking wet. Good girl,” I mutter, lashing a palm against her ass.

The crisp smack of skin only excites her more.

When I slide my fingers over her dripping flesh, she bites me.

Her hips shudder in a sharp jerk, and when I delve two fingers into her hot little pussy, her knees grasp at my waist and dig in.

That’s it, darling Butterfly.

Let the fuck go.

Everything about her cuts me open.

From her whimpering cries against my lips to the way she writhes, impaled on me, her fingers dragging through my hair and telling me how bad shewantsme.

I savor that, plunging my fingers inside her again and again—twisting them, curling them, stroking her and learning how she feels, all softness rippling and slick and soon-to-be devoted to my cock.

I need to feel her again.

I need to feel how good it gets when she’s clenching on my cock, binding us together as we tumble into pleasure together.

It nearly kills me to tear myself away and pin her down under me.

To let go of that kiss, slip my dripping-wet fingers from inside her, fumble a condom from the nightstand, and shove my pajama pants down.

I have to fight to get the rubber on when my cock is pulsing like mad, this unruly bulge of straining energy and single-minded heat.

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