Page 553 of Lessons in Cruelty

Before I can stop her, she drags her tongue up my chin and over my lips. Suddenly, all I can think about is how it would feel if my cock was covered in melted marshmallow.

A pulse of blood hardens my dick, sending it bobbing off my lap as it tests the tensile strength of my Brunello sweats.

Thank God she’s not sitting on my crotch anymore.

I freeze, caught between pushing her off and pulling her closer.

Ever since Jace interrupted us this morning, any touching between us has been accidental. Or pretend-accidental, anyway. Like the way our hands briefly connect when we pass things between us.

Despite how many times we’ve fucked, I have no idea what this is.

It feels like something.

Haven’s blue eyes lock with mine, and the unspoken challenge to make her stop is so fucking blatant, my lips twitch into a smile.

Her tongue gets most of the marshmallow off, but there’s a big gloop of it on my top lip that’s giving her trouble. My cock bobs as she stares down at my mouth and murmurs, “Hold still and this won’t hurt.”

What won’t⁠—

I can’t hold back a groan when she nibbles at my lip, trying to shear the melted candy off my skin with her teeth.

Fuck, that feels so good.

I don’t even realize I’ve slid my hand onto her throat until she draws back with a disgusted sound.

“Ew, you’re all sticky.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“I plead the Fifth,” she says, a self-satisfied smirk on her mouth as she sits up again.

My groan has nothing to do with her teeth this time—she’s crushing my hard on. Her face changes in an instant, eyes going wide, lips parting.

I expect her to tease me again, but that slightly dazed expression just stays on her face as she grabs my wrist and lifts my hand.

When she slides one of my fingers into her hot, wet mouth to lick off the melted candy, I nearly come in my fucking pants. Especially when she swirls her tongue against my skin, then dragging her teeth down the length of my finger.

“Easy,” I murmur.

She swaps out my finger for a different one, smiling around the digit as she cleans it. Then she rocks into my lap until I’m barely holding back a feral pant.

“Told you, everyone likes marshmallow,” she murmurs, and then swipes her tongue over my palm.

“Eating it? No. Having you lick it off me? Fuck yes.”

She moves onto my other hand, sucks a finger into her mouth, and immediately spits it out. Her face scrunches up as she sticks out her tongue and uses the tips of her fingers to pluck at it.

“Sand,” she mutters when I frown up at her.

She squeals when I grab her hips, holding her in place as I sit up in a rush.

I don’t give a fuck what we are.

If I don’t kiss her immediately, I’m going to have a fucking heart attack.

The bonfire crackles, hisses, and pops, its warmth coating my hands where I’m holding onto Haven’s hips. But I barely hear it. Just how I can barely make out the sound of the waves as they tumble onto the beach before being dragged back into the ocean.

My mind is entirely, completely, irrevocably caught up in the girl on my lap. Every motion, every sound she makes. The way her breath catches in frantic little gasps as she responds to my kiss. How she arches into me, as if she wants every inch of her body touching mine.