Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 154037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
I hummed around him, and his fist tightened in my hair. He tipped my face up toward him, those sea-ravaged eyes burning into mine.
“You have any idea what it’s like to have you like this? On your knees with that sweet, dirty mouth wrapped around my cock?”
I couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but stare up at him as he slowly began to withdraw before he pushed back in with a slow, measured thrust.
Energy crackled. The connection that had always shimmered between us coming alive. A frisson in the dense, dense air.
He grunted when he hit the back of my throat. “So fuckin’ good. Just like that. Take it like you mean it.”
He did it again, a little harder that time. “My sweet moonflower. You want me to dirty you? Wreck you? Ruin you?”
His tone volleyed between regret and possession.
I nodded in frantic, short jerks, need blistering through me, my skin seared with the flames that consumed.
I wanted it.
I wanted him to wreck me. To wreck me in the very best way.
I squeezed him tighter with my hands, and I was the one to pull back that time, staring up at him as I swirled my tongue around the tip before I plunged back down.
A vicious sound rippled from his chest, and I almost grinned, the way I felt powerful and beautiful right then, driving him toward the chaos I could see whirling through his eyes.
“This mouth. This dangerous fuckin’ mouth and this sweet fuckin’ soul. What am I supposed to do with you?”
I guessed he knew, though, because he started to rock, picking up the rhythm he wanted. A rhythm I matched, using my hands to stroke him as I sucked him deeper with each thrust.
“So good, baby.” He grunted each word as he started to fuck my mouth in long, desperate strokes.
His hips snapped as he jutted forward, and the hard, packed muscles of his stomach flexed as he worked us into a disorder.
It felt like a claiming.
That’s exactly what I wanted it to be.
A claiming.
I wanted him to take me. Own me.
My gaze locked on the moonflower tattoo that bloomed on his left hip. Was it me? Did he feel the same? Or was it a symbol that only promised he would forever look out for me? Protect me like a little sister?
I thought I had my answer the instant I looked up at him. When I saw the searing intensity that blazed from his gaze and erupted from his soul.
I knew it. I knew it.
I just didn’t know if he would ever admit it.
I curled one hand tighter around him as I let the other wander up to the tattoo, and I brushed my fingers over the statement, hoping he could feel the statement of my own.
I love you. I love you.
I always had.
Probably long before I’d really understood what it meant.
An agonized sound rolled through his body, and a second hand dove into my hair, the man lifting me higher by both hands as he surged into my mouth. Guiding me exactly where he wanted me as he muttered, “Moonflower…baby…what have you done to me?”
He pushed himself deeper than he’d gone before, a hand at the back of my head drawing me forward.
I swallowed around him, taking everything I could.
That was all it took, and he shattered.
A roar of pleasure ricocheted through his garage as his cock throbbed and pulsed in my mouth. He poured and poured, grunting and groaning as I sucked him clean, making sure that I eked every last drop of pleasure out of him, too.
He slowed then stilled, and I carefully eased back to stare up at the man who’d always been everything to me.
The one who’d made me feel safe.
The one who’d seen me in a different light than anyone had before.
The one I’d always been willing to sacrifice for. The one I’d do anything for.
My spirit thrashed.
He could never know.
He could never know what I’d done or the lengths I’d gone.
His thumb came to trail along the edge of my mouth. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, Raven Tayte. So goddamn perfect. You got me wrecked.”
But he was the one who’d wrecked me long ago.
THIRTY-SEVEN
OTTO
TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD
“What the fuck was that about?” Otto spat it as he tore through the double doors of the club, heading right for that piece of shit Gideon Marsdon who was already at the bar, swilling down a bottle of tequila.
This bar was private, tucked behind the public bar out front, and was overflowing with Iron Owls at two on a Friday afternoon.
A ton of speculative eyes flew Otto’s way as he stormed in, a path of fury lit behind him.
Gideon cracked a condescending grin. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Hudson.”
Otto hated this motherfucker. Had despised him since the moment he’d met him. But that scorn had taken on whole new levels after he’d been messing with Haddie a couple years earlier.