Page 78 of Sweet Torment

Each touch draws a whimper from her throat, the sounds and feel of her have me impossibly hard.

“I was waiting, Bianca,” I murmur against the curve of her hip. My voice sounds wrecked even to my own ears. “And hoping like hell you’d want me too. I wasn’t with anyone else before...”

I feel her stiffen under my hands, the subtle tension rippling through her muscles. When I look up, there’s something like grief shadowing her eyes, turning that brilliant blue into something stormy and troubled. “Hey,” I say softly, sliding up her body to cup her face between my palms. “What’s wrong?”

The words float between us, and I can see her wrestling with something dark behind her eyes. Maybe it was the wrong thing to say.

She seems to shake away the sadness, her fingers reaching up to trace the line of my jaw with such tenderness. The gentleness in her touch undoes me completely. “Show me,” she says softly, her eyes finding mine. “Show me how you would’ve touched me.”

Jesus Christ. I pull back just enough to tug my shirt over my head, desperate to feel her skin against mine without any barriers between us. When my chest presses against hers, we both gasp at the sensation.

I kiss her deeply and my hands can’t stay still, exploring her body while my tongue explores her mouth. The soft, heavy weight of her breasts in my palms has me damn near humping her.

“I’m the luckiest man in the goddamn world,” I murmur against her lips, feeling her smile.

She laughs softly. “You always were a sweet talker.”

“Not sweet talk. Truth.” I trail kisses down her throat, meandering and slow making her wriggle against me.

Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nails biting into my skin as she urges me lower. The tiny sting of pain only heightens my arousal. I oblige her silent demand, and when I take one perfect nipple between my teeth, she arches against me.

“Yes,” she breathes, her head falling back. “More of that.”

I worship her breasts, alternating between gentle suction and light grazes. Her responses drive me wild. The way she squirms, the little gasps and moans that escape her lips, how she tugs at my hair when I hit a particularly sensitive spot. Each reaction is a roadmap, guiding me to what makes her feel good. I’m committing all of it to memory.

I drop to my knees in front of the counter, tugging her to the edge so her legs dangle on either side of me. I spread her thighs wider, revealing the slick pink flesh between them. She’s already so wet for me, her arousal glistening and calling to me.

“Fuck, you make me crazy,” I breathe, running my thumbs along her inner thighs as I take a moment to just look at her.

She squirms, her hips shifting restlessly. “Freddie, please.”

I give her what she wants, leaning in to drag my tongue up in one long, slow lick. She cries out, her hips bucking against my mouth. Then I place featherlight kisses all over her pink, wet skin until she’s begging. When I finally close my lips around her clit and suck gently, she nearly comes off the counter, a strangled cry tearing from her throat.

And then she comes. Hard. Her body going rigid, her back arching as pleasure crashes through her. I push my tongue inside her and her pussy pulses around it, as the aftershocks continue to wash over her. I lick and lick inside, not wanting to leave any of her sweetness behind. Lapping at her clit with the flat of my tongue, I slide two fingers inside her, curling and twisting them, easing in and spreading them apart until she’s a whimpering mess. She’s so tight and hot and wet around my fingers, I feel a bit delirious.

“You taste so fucking good,” I murmur against her. “I could do this for hours.”

“I’d—ah!—I’d let you.”

Good to know. I would be thrilled to wake her up like this every day. Although, Tristan and I might be fighting over the privilege. I work her toward the edge again. Her thighs begin to shake, her breathing coming in sharp, short gasps. I can feel her tightening around my fingers, getting close.

“That’s it,” I encourage. “Come for me, Bianca.”

She comes with a loud cry, her body clenching around my fingers in rhythmic pulses. I work her through it, gentling my touch but completely addicted to the way her body seems to suck me in. When she finally slumps back, boneless and flushed, I press one last kiss to her inner thigh and stand.

Her eyes are barely open, her lips parted as she catches her breath. Her hair is messy and her lips are swollen from our kisses.

“Come here,” she says, reaching for me.

I step between her legs again, and she pulls me down for a deep kiss. I know she can taste herself on my lips, and the thought makes me groan into her mouth. There’s something primal about it, something that satisfies the alpha in me on a level I can’t even articulate.

Then she’s pushing me back and sliding off the counter.

She hooks a finger inside the waistband of my sweatpants before pulling them down slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.

“I want to taste you now, Alpha,” she says, sinking to her knees.

Fuckity fuck fuck. Her calling me ‘alpha’ is like a direct line to my cock, making it jump and throb and surge toward her. She looks like a goddess. Looking up at me, lips red and wet, the sexiest expression I’ve ever seen—it’s far better than any fantasy I’ve ever had. And I’ve had a lot of them about her.