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But he seems intent on controlling me, controlling this, ensuring we move at his pace.
One that is agonizingly slow.
He looks up at me from between my legs, the predatory gleam in his liquid gaze enough to make me clench on his tongue and him moan.
“Weston…” I thread my fingers in his thick, unruly hair, the silver locks flashing in the light emanating from the lamp on the table just to my side. Twisting in his hold again, I finally beg. “Please.”
The man doesn’t relent, gliding his tongue through me, thrusting it inside, sucking every other damn part of me between his lips without ever touching the throbbing nub at the apex of my thighs that will send me soaring.
My body shakes like a goddamn earthquake starting, the table creaking and legs rattling with every movement. But it doesn’t deter him from his mission.
He just keeps going, continues torturing me with the burn of his beard, soft brush of his lips, hot lick of his tongue, and then thrusts two fingers up inside me. His mouth finally finds my clit, and he pulls it between his lips and bites down.
White-hot ecstasy scorches through me—the burn blissful and painful at the same time. Everything I want but definitely shouldn’t have all focused in one spot. Then he curls his fingers and starts probing in time as he sucks, and my orgasm builds rapidly, twisting me tighter and building me higher and higher until I’m standing at that ledge he brought me to the other night, looking down at the valley, knowing full well what lies beneath me and what will happen if I fall over it.
But with a simple flick of his tongue, that’s exactly what I do.
I gasp, my back arching up off the solid wood, my hips thrusting against his face, pussy clenching around his fingers as he swallows my release, dragging my orgasm out until lights flash behind my closed lids and all the air rushes from my lungs on a surprised, silent plea for it to never.
It rolls on forever, threatening to drown me in pleasure, bordering on pain, until I finally manage to catch my breath as it starts to ebb.
I slowly sink back down onto the table and allow my eyes to flutter open, but the look in his tells me we’re far from finished.
Oh, shit…
Feral.
That’s the only way to describe it.
Like a pure predator examining its prey. The Beast really is flashing a warning as he stands and pulls his fingers from me before immediately sliding them into his mouth.
He reaches for the button of his jeans with his free hand and pops it, tugging down the zipper as he licks my release from his fingers. His tongue snakes out to ensure he hasn’t missed a drop, and he groans his approval.
“You taste fucking incredible, Beauty. Sweet like honey, just as I dreamed you would…”
His fingers tug at the hem of my T-shirt, and he pulls it up and over my head and tosses it behind him, exposing me fully to the chilly air in the library and to him for the first time.
My nipples, already hard as rocks, pebble more, and his eyes zero in on them. He licks his lips, then dips his head, sucking one of them into his mouth and biting down harshly in a way that makes my whole body scream for him, even though I just came.
I score my nails down his back, clutching at his hips with my thighs, trying to draw him closer to me.
He groans and releases my taut peak, then focuses on its twin, giving it the same treatment.
Each flick and suck and scrape of his teeth draws me closer to another cataclysmic orgasm.
I undulate under him, trying to find the friction I need. Desperate and feeling as wanton as I have in my entire life.
This is what true desire feels like.
Not sweaty gropes after a night at the bar.
This.
Primal.
Unstoppable.
He finally releases my nipple from his mouth with a pop, then shifts back and shoves his jeans down to his hips, letting his cock spring free.
