breath, her eyes wide. “That’s...you just admitted to having a weakness.”
“I just spoke true.”
Slowly, she softened against him. She even rested her head on his shoulder, giving him better access to her elegant neck. He took full advantage, kissing and licking the succulent column with abandon, savoring her taste.
“You are the sweetest candy.” After giving her nipples a loving pinch, he traced his fingers down...down her stomach, stopping to dabble at her navel. All the while he ground his erection between the globes of her ass. “Last time, I took you without kissing you and vowed never to make such a mistake again. Please... I want your mouth.”
She shook her head. “No kissing. This is hate sex, remember?”
Harsh words, but her breathlessness buoyed him.
“Hate kiss me, then.” He would take her however he could get her. “Your taste is sure to be my ruin.”
Tremors rocked her against him. “There’s no such thing as a hate kiss.”
“Prove it.” And while she did, he would make her come so hard she screamed the house down.
She began to pant. A sheen of sweat glistened on her skin. She tilted her head up...and he waited, unable to breathe...desperate...
“I’ll kiss you, but only because you need to accept the truth. Give me your mouth.”
He smashed his mouth into hers before she could change her mind. His tongue moved on hers, and she moaned, meeting the ferocity of his feasting with a ferocity all her own. They ate at each other.
“C-convinced?” she asked.
“Not even close. Keep trying.”
She snagged his lips for another brutal kiss. His hand trailed down...down...and he speared his finger deep inside her. She was hot—searing—and she was wet—soaking.
“I think your body loves me,” he rasped.
Love. The word echoed in his mind, and longing unlike any he’d ever known welled inside him. He craved her love?
She ground into his finger. “More.”
“Your demand, my pleasure.” He pierced her with a second digit, and she cried out. He watched her reflection, fascinated by her reactions to him. Her features were soft with wanting, her hips arching to follow the thrust of his hand. Had any woman ever been so uninhibited? Satisfied because he was the man with her, and not someone else?
She reached around him, grabbing his ass and holding on tight, her nails cutting into his flesh. She can’t get enough of me. She’s mine for the taking. His control—already on edge—frayed. Madness ruled him.
He dove in for another kiss, pressing the heel of a palm against the source of her desire while cupping and kneading her breast with the other. More cries escaped her, and as one minute bled into another, the sounds came faster and faster.
She wiggled against him. “Baden. Please.”
Rapture flowed through his veins. Sweat slicked over him, over her, creating an easy glide. She released his ass to lift her arms and tangle her fingers in his hair.
Yes, yes. Her breaths turned shallow as she tugged the strands, angling his head the way she wanted it, silently demanding he possess her mouth harder, faster, deeper.
“Going to give you everything, Rina.” The need for release plagued him. Been too long without her. A day—an hour, a single minute—was too long. He slid his fingers out of her.
In protest, she bit his bottom lip with enough force to sting. Naughty girl. He flipped her hair out of the way, placed the hand wet with her essence on her nape and applied pressure, forcing her to lean forward until her cheek met the glass.
“Want you bare,” he said. She’d taught him to crave skin-to-skin contact.
“Yes. Please. No worries...the ward...can’t get pregnant...please.”
Ward? Keeley must have tattooed her with a symbol used by the Curators, the Red Queen’s people. A powerful race somehow able to both strengthen and weaken themselves with their mystical wards. Symbols from a time before the creation of humans.
As he dove down to lick the essence he’d left on Katarina’s skin, he positioned himself for entry—then drove all the way in.
Her climax was instant and all-consuming, her inner walls squeezing his length, milking it. He fought his own release, not ready for this to end, barely able to breathe, wanting—needing—more of her. But the more he pounded into her, the more fighting his climax ceased to be an option; in fact, it became nothing but an afterthought. Her climax still raged, still squeezed at him, his name a continuous purr on her lips, and a thick fog fell over his mind.
Mine. She’s mine. Will keep. Will have, again and again.
Yes, yes. So