Road To Fire (Broken Crown Trilogy #1) - Maria Luis Page 0,87

south all over again. “You like the push, the pull—the fear of the unexpected that comes with the pleasure.”

“I-I—”

“Cat got your tongue?” I brush my mouth over her skin, the center of her spine. “Maybe I should help with that.”

Before she can speak, I move my hand from her thigh and slap her—there, between her thighs, right over her clit.

She screams my name.

I feel her entire body shudder, even her toes that are hooked around my calves. She shudders and I burn alive and I will never—never—forget this moment for as long as I live. Isla Quinn, warrior that she is, crying out my name. I cup her core, easing the burn. Already on my fingers I can feel how wet she is.

Wet and wanting and waiting to be fucked.

I dip my fingers through her wetness, capturing the essence of her, before grazing my fingertips up over her belly button, up over one hard nipple, up to her soft, plump lips. “Taste yourself.”

She obeys immediately. The tip of her tongue flicks out against my fingers, a gentle caress at first. But then she seems to realize that there’s no judgment here, not between us, and she wraps her lips around me and sucks them deep. One knuckle, two. Like it isn’t my fingers she’s tasting but my cock.

A groan reverberates through my chest, unchecked. “Christ.”

She grinds down, her ass circling over my crotch. Lips still staking their claim on my fingers, licking them clean. Giving as good as she’s getting.

I’d expect nothing else from this woman.

Pulling myself free of her mouth, I don’t wait for what I know will be a sarcastic remark before rendering her speechless all over again. My wet fingers go to her clit, applying pressure, then dance away when she grows stiff in my arms and tries to wrestle back control. Because I’m a starved man with no qualms about stealing what I need to survive, I plunge two fingers deep inside her.

“Saxon,” she whimpers, “oh, God. I can’t. It’s too much.”

“Wrong.” I regrip her wrists, keeping her captive. “It’s not enough. It won’t ever be enough, not with us.” Tension lines my body, winding me so tight that I might splinter. “Tell me what you see,” I growl into her back, my voice thick, “and leave nothing out.”

“Please, I need to—”

“Tell me, Isla.” I curl my fingers within her. Press my thumb down on her clit. “And I’ll consider putting you out of your misery.”

A cry wrestles with a frustrated hiss. She struggles in my embrace, seeking more, her hips churning. I let her have her moment. For a second. And then I’m pulling away, flipping her over until she’s flat on her back, her ass lined up with the edge of the sofa, and I’m the one on my knees.

I spread her legs wide, forcing her to hold her knees against her chest.

A breath away, she’s soaked. Dripping. It’s a view I’ve never been privy to before, but one I have no doubt that I’ll enjoy.

I lift my hungry gaze to hers. “Uphold your end of the bargain.”

It’s all I say before I palm her inner thigh, bow my head, and feast.

29

Isla

The first touch of his tongue to my clit is heaven-sent.

Knees clutched within my hands, there’s no stopping the cry that rips from my throat. The feel of him, the strength with which he pins me, holding me in place, is as much a turn-on as the sight of him between my legs.

Midnight hair in disarray. Green eyes burning bright, determined and narrowed. That surprising, unexpected tattoo of his fluttering with each hard contraction of his muscles. Mouth wet and glistening as he swirls his tongue and brings me to what must be Dante’s undiscovered tenth circle of hell.

Nothing has ever felt so good.

Nothing should ever feel as good as this.

I breathe out his name. Sink my nails into my shins because it’s either that or claw the sofa cushions to shreds as I writhe under his persuasive mouth.

Uphold your end of the bargain.

His husky demand pervades my consciousness and I lick my lips, desperate for words to give him when all I seem capable of is begging for more. His thick stubble scrapes the inside of my thighs and his tongue causes chaos with each and every flick. And then he ups the ante by sliding a finger inside me.

No, two fingers.

They stretch me, circling in time to the rhythm of his tongue lapping the tiny bud of need at the hood