Pure & Sinful (Pure Souls) - By Killian McRae Page 0,55

swing had begun mirroring every little sexy move Riona made against him like second nature.

Or primal nature, which seemed more appropriate.

Her knees bent as her body, too, began to swerve with the thick electronic chords, taking Marc along for the ride. The witch’s head kept switching out, left than right, surveying the crowd, looking for anyone suspicious. All Marc could do was look at her, and the delectable piece of flesh that his mouth could sink down over each time she stretched out her neck one way or another to get a better view.

He felt his body and his reluctance easing, and before he realized what was happening, the lead fell to him. His other hand circled around Riona’s back, and with both hands on her waist, he brought her hips in parallel with his. Riona’s head snapped back center when she felt his erection pushing against her, but she didn’t at all pull back, like he suspected she might. Instead, after the moment of surprise evaporated, she beamed at him with heavy-lidded eyes as she bit her bottom lip. Her eyes rolled back when Marc — he didn’t know if it was purposefully or instinctively — used his grasp to give an experimental grind against the area that was barely being covered by her miniskirt.

Riona’s arms circled around him as her head rested against his chest and one of her legs drew up, over his hip. He grabbed under her knee to steady her against him while using the closer proximity to move his other hand down her backside, before landing on the luscious ass he’d been blaming for his lack of resolve in confession for weeks. It was amazing how ideally tailored their bodies were for each other, as though the curve of her ass and the inside of his palm had been custom-fitted like a lid to a jar. He squeezed, and though he couldn’t hear it, he could feel Riona’s moan vibrate on his chest. They both stilled as her head pulled back just enough to look at him tenderly, expectantly.

He couldn’t deny what was now inevitable. He had to kiss her, had to taste her.

The moment their lips met, the bass kicked up and became pulsing, driving. Though the tempo stayed hypnotically languid, their movements did not. Her tongue, her lips, her breath… he was overwhelmed. And unsatisfied. And wanted more. Wanted it all. Wanted her, here, now, even with all these people around, even knowing he’d be doomed to Hell for claiming Riona as his own. He had to be near her, against her, beside her, inside her. NOW.

When he slammed her against an open spot on the wall, she didn’t complain. Her hands anchored on his shoulders as his hands slipped down to pull her legs up, letting his whistle that needed a good whetting, but burdened by a layer of denim and cotton briefs, rub against Riona’s all-too-ready wetness. Her legs wrapped around him as his hips pinned her in place.

Out from the bass of the speakers, the sound was less obstructive. He pulled back just a second to take in her expression, to make sure she wanted this too.

“Tell me no, Riona.” He didn’t know if he was commanding her or daring her. Or maybe it was his last ditch attempt to blame her for this, to leave the ball in her court and make the play hers to undertake.

Breathless and flushed, she looked at him curiously, her expression full of misunderstanding. With his eyes, he motioned to the imminent connection between them and asked permission.

Riona’s face exploded into acknowledgement. “Never,” she gasped.

Her head rolled to the side when he brought his mouth down on her neck and bit. His hand lowered to the place where they pulsed in harmony, as his fingers fumbled with his zipper before reaching out to move the slip of drenched silk from over her entrance.

How he wished he had her on his bed. He wanted to see that promised land, wanted to lay her flat on his mattress and let his kisses fall on her center, let his tongue explore her, flesh-to-flesh. Here in the club, all he had was sensation, carnal need. He longed for it all, he wanted to hear her call out his name as she gasped beneath him. Or on top of him, if that was the way she liked it. But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t slow down now. This was fate, it was destiny. He needed this. They both needed