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Something flickers across Lyssa’s face, an emotion I can’t quite read before she wipes it away. But I lay my hand on her arm, needing her to understand.
“And you, Lyssa. You’re the reason behind that purpose. You’ve given me hope that maybe I can have something…beyond vengeance.”
Lyssa’s eyes soften, and for a moment, I think she might kiss me. But then she clears her throat, looking down. “What about Sarah?” she asks carefully. “Because Hadria wants her to help, too.”
I stiffen, the familiar rage rising in my chest at the mention of my brother’s killer. “I told you. I’ve…given up my plans for vengeance against her.”
Lyssa shakes her head, looking suddenly weary. “She killed Adam, Scarlett. I don’t know if you can just let that go, not after so long. And the Syndicate…they can’t let what you did go, either. It’s all so fucking pointless, this endless cycle of death.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. It’s pointless. And logically, I want to let go of the anger. But letting go of my anger, my hatred... it feels like letting go of Adam. Like losing him all over again.
I don’t say anything more, and Lyssa doesn’t push. She just kisses me with soft lips and I melt into her embrace. Her hands slide up my back, taking up handfuls of my hair as she deepens the kiss.
After a moment, she pulls back just enough to meet my gaze. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” But it’s not a brush-off. It’s a question. Her body is pressed against mine, warm and solid, her eyes dark with desire.
“So we should make the most of tonight,” I whisper back, trailing my fingers over the defined muscles in her arms. She leans in to take my lips again, and our kisses grow more urgent. I tug at her clothes until I can feel her bare skin against mine.
“This is definitely not my favorite place to fuck,” she sighs, glancing around the motel room, “but we’ve had worse.”
I giggle. Actually giggle, as I remember the barn floor. “You can say that again. But a few seconds from now, you won’t even remember where we are.”
She smirks as though it’s a challenge, and shoves at me until I turn over on the bed, knees bent up beneath me so my ass is in the air. “Actually,” she says, “I think you’re about to forget your own name.” She spreads my asscheeks open and I swallow down a squeal, then go boneless as I feel a stream of hot air blowing over my hole.
“Oh, fuck,” is all I manage.
“Exactly.” With that, she buries her face in my ass and gives a long, slow lick from over my wide-open pussy up to my pucker, her tongue soft and wet and it’s so, so unbelievably sensual that I moan out loud. Lyssa chuckles, pleased by my reaction, and does it again, this time circling my asshole before flicking it with the very tip of her tongue.
“Relax,” she says. “I want in.”
My clit aches jealously as I grip the sheets and blow out a long breath, try to do as she says and relax, moaning again as I feel the tip of her tongue breach my ring. She slides in slowly, teasingly, and just when I think I can’t take it anymore, she pulls back and blows a stream of cool air right on my sensitive, wet hole, making me jump.
“Oh, you’re deliciously responsive,” she tells me, voice laced with satisfaction. “I love it.”
“Bitch,” I groan out, both annoyed and aroused. Lyssa chuckles and kisses my back before her tongue returns to its torture. This time, however, she doesn’t relent. She laps at my still-tight ring with long, sensual strokes that make me whimper with growing need. The sensations are so intense, my entire body on edge. It’s a terrible, wonderful torture, one I never knew I needed until now. And then her fingers find my clit, rubbing in the same rhythm as her tongue takes in fucking me.
We rock there together, her tongue and fingers working in tandem, driving me higher and higher. The only thing that matters is the pleasure building in me, winding tighter and tighter until I need to explode.
She must sense my desperation, because all at once she increases the pace, her tongue wriggling into me as her fingers massage my clit more firmly, pushing me into one of the most intense orgasms of my life.
I lie there in a daze as she goes into the bathroom and washes her face before returning to me where I’ve rolled over onto my back.
“You out for the night?” she asks with the same smirk from before.
“Mmm,” I mumble, but I reach out toward her, making grabby hands.
She eases down on top of me, lining up our bodies, pushing my legs into position until she’s satisfied. I feel the wet heat of her pussy against mine—“You’re so fucking wet,” she murmurs—and she begins to move, sliding over my still-throbbing clit in a gentle but regular rhythm. She doesn’t stop there, dropping her head to bite with soft teeth at my tits, gathering them up so she can suck on my nipples as she rides me.
I can’t believe how sensitive my body is tonight, or maybe it’s just what Lyssa is doing to it. Because the combination of her sucking and licking at my breasts and grinding against my still-sensitive clit has me on the brink again in no time. I grip handfuls of the sheets as my hips buck upwards, desperate for more contact.
“I’ve got you,” she whispers into my hair, her hands sliding down to grip my ass cheeks, fingers digging in just enough to let me know who’s in control. “Let go, Scar.”
And I do. I let go of my insecurities, of my guilt, of everything but the here and now with Lyssa. I come apart in her arms, slow and sweet this time, wave after wave of gentle bliss that means I’m still aware enough to watch Lyssa reach her own peak, too. She looks almost dazed when she collapses on top of me, panting. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close, feeling her heartbeat slow to a more normal rhythm.
“You okay?” I ask, stroking her hair back from her forehead.
She nods, still muffled in my shoulder, but doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, she lifts her head and looks at me with those intense brown eyes of hers, so full of desire and tenderness it takes my breath away. “I’ve never wanted anyone or anything the way I want you,” she whispers hoarsely. “You know that, right? I said I loved you, Scar. But that tiny little word…it doesn’t really do justice to what I’m feeling.”
“I…” I falter, suddenly tongue-tied. “I...know what you mean. It seems too simple a word. But…”
