Page 77
A low, shuddering groan and an involuntary twitch of his hips against mine greeted the view of buttery white on pale skin, the lace trim more of a suggestion, one he wanted to dismantle with his teeth, by the way his eyes grew dark and hungry.
His thumb brushed over the swell of my breast, right above my bra, and his mouth pulled into a smirk I didn’t understand, until—
“Freckles,” he murmured, before his lips descended to trail over the exposed skin, as if tracing them. He licked and kissed at my chest, sucking more bruises that had me pressing my palm harder against my mouth, though it couldn’t quite stifle the sounds.
“Be quiet,” he ordered, tongue diving under the cup of my bra to brush over my nipple. I whimpered, loud enough he clicked his tongue in disapproval, right before doing it again and dragging out another, even needier one.
“Mia,” he warned, low and gravelly.
“Maybe help me be quiet?”
His eyes glinted, and his lips pulled into a wolfish grin.
“My pleasure,” he purred, before the hand caging me in pried my own from my mouth and replaced it. Large, heavy. Perfect.
With a deliberate drag of teeth, he tugged the cup of my bra down, then watched the bud harden, equal parts mesmerised and ravenous.
His tongue darted out to circle it.
My knees turned liquid.
Emboldened, his lips curled around my stiff nipple and sucked, as his thigh pressed up harder, the fabric of my tights and underwear a flimsy shield, only amplifying the friction.
His palm swallowed my moans as he tortured me, mouth suckling and licking at one nipple, while he teased the other between thumb and index finger.
My hips rocked against him shamelessly, though my cheeks burned. He chuckled on my breast, the vibration of his voice kicking up a jolt of both irritation and pleasure.
What is happening?
His hand fell away from cupping and kneading soft flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps down my side, along my hip, until it landed heavy on my thigh, right below the hem of my skirt. He bunched it up an inch or so, fingers like a match struck over my skin.
“Josh—” I moaned, the sound heavily muffled.
His grip turned biting for a second—in reprimand or restraint, I had no idea.
“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling me closer and guiding my pathetic little grinds as he shifted, thigh pressing up into me.
“Don’t say my name like that.”
His palm left my mouth only for his lips to capture it instead, soft sounds mingling between us as he gripped my hip, dragging me harder against his leg.
Oh, god.
Pleasure built and built inside me, until I worried I might actually shatter without him even touching me, which I both craved deep in my bones and fought with everything I had.
His raw hunger clashed with mine as his fingers left bruises on my thigh. His mouth slanted on mine, swallowing my moans, as his leg rubbed against my core, kicking up sparks with every brush.
My hands clawed at his hair, and I should’ve been worried I’d pull it out by the roots, except my whole focus had narrowed to the deliberate licks of his tongue—which made me think of what magic he could work elsewhere—and the white-hot titillation building inside me.
I was grateful his mouth left me breathless and speechless, because I might have done something embarrassing—like begging.
“Shh,” he whispered on my lips.
My core clenched and pulsed around nothing at his warning, spurred on more than deterred. Something was definitely wrong with me, but I didn’t find it in me to care.
Don’t stop…
Loud footsteps turned my blood to ice. Close, too close.
