Page 55 of Bookish Girl’s Emergency Contact Is a Lycan King

This is insane. This is completely insane. This is also, without question…

He drags his lips up the inside of my thigh, slow, deliberate, and stops just short of where I want him.

…the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.

“I want to taste you.” His voice has gone to gravel, low and ruined. “I’ve been thinking about it for days. The way you’d feel against my tongue. The sounds you’d make. Will you let me?”

“Yes.”

His fingers curl into the waistband of my underwear, and he pulls them down with the same agonizing slowness, unwrapping me the way you unwrap something you’ve waited your whole long life for. Cool air hits wet, aching skin, and the sound he makes at the sight of me is low and rough and frankly obscene.

And then his mouth is on me.

Oh god.

Oh god oh god oh god…

The first stroke of his tongue makes my entire body jolt. He’s not tentative, not exploratory, he knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly where to press and how hard, and the pleasure is so immediate, so intense, that I cry out.

“That’s it.” His voice vibrates against my most sensitive flesh. “Let me hear you.”

“I can’t… I can’t think…”

“Don’t think. Just feel.”

He licks into me, slow and thorough, and my hips buck against his face. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open, and he devours me with a focus that borders on worship.

“You’re soaked.” He sounds drunk on it. “For me.”

“Obviously for you, there’s no one else h…” His tongue does something devastating and the sentence dies in my throat.

“So sweet.” The words are murmured against my clit, and I feel them as much as hear them. “Sweeter than honey. Sweeter than anything I’ve ever tasted.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I’m not flattering you.” His tongue circles my clit, and I see stars. “I’m reporting field observations.”

How is he so good at this? How does he know exactly…

His tongue slides lower, presses inside me, and the question dissolves into static.

“Look at me.”

The command cuts through the haze of pleasure, and I force my eyes open. Force myself to look down at him, at the dark hair between my thighs, at the gold eyes watching me like I’m the only thing left in the world.

“Keep looking at me.”

“I can’t… it’s too much…”

“You can. You’re so strong. So brave.” His tongue works my clit with devastating precision. “Let me see you. Let me see what I do to you.”

I hold his gaze as he works me toward something inevitable. His eyes are getting brighter, the gold intensifying, flaring white at the edges, and I realize with a distant part of my brain that this is what he meant in the FAQ. They shift color when he feels something too strongly to hide.

He’s feeling this.

He’s feeling this as intensely as I am.

“You’re so good,” he growls against me. “So perfect. So responsive. Every sound you make is a gift.”