When He's Sinful (The Olympus Pride 3)

“Wait, you—”

His mouth took hers, his hips punched up to grind against her clit, his grip on her hair tightened to the point of pain … and a moan slipped out of her. He swallowed it. Ravished her mouth. Kissed her with an intoxicating greed and urgency that overwhelmed her good sense. For a moment.

She intended to pull back, she truly did. Because he was her best friend. And having sex again wouldn’t be wise. And … and … oh God, every slide of his cock over her clit felt so good.

A low growl poured into her mouth. He bit her lower lip hard. “I can smell how slick you are.” Wicked fast, he yanked her shirt over her head and dragged it down her arms to trap her wrists behind her back.

She shuddered as her nipples brushed against his chest. “This isn’t a good idea.” But she didn’t object. She didn’t have that kind of willpower.

“I think it’s a great fucking idea.” He pulled on her wrists, arching her back, and lashed a nipple with his tongue. “I didn’t get to play with these pretty breasts last time.”

He kept her there like that while he “played.” He licked, sucked, nipped, bit. His free hand alternated between cupping and squeezing her breasts to pinching her throbbing nipples. He didn’t do the bare minimum to ramp up her arousal, no, he settled in and indulged himself.

For a guy she’d always thought was more into men than women, he seemed surprisingly enthralled by her breasts. And at some point, her reservations melted away.

She repeatedly ground against his cock, absolutely shameless, desperately needing to come. Her release crept closer and closer until her thigh muscles tensed, her breathing sped up, and her movements became more frantic.

He freed her wrists from her shirt, and then she found herself flat on her back on the dining table. Well.

He ragged off her panties, threw her legs over his shoulders, gripped her thighs, and clamped his mouth around her pussy. Her back bowed, and her eyes fluttered closed. Jesus Christ, he ate her out like he’d been dreaming about it for years.

That tongue … oh, it was a blessed, blessed thing. It stabbed and licked and swiped and swirled. And her orgasm was hovering too close for her to last long. She came with a choked moan, her back arched, her thighs trembling, her hand slapping the table.

Savoring the taste of her, Camden licked his lips as he lifted his head. Masculine satisfaction slinked through him at the sight of her limp and shaking with aftershocks. His aching cock raged to be inside her, and his tiger drove him to take her now, but Camden didn’t want to fuck her there.

Standing, he scooped her up and carried her into his bedroom. He all but dumped her on the bed and then shoved down his sweatpants. He almost jolted in surprise as she knifed upright and curled her warm hand around his cock. Then she took him into her mouth. Shit.

He sank his hands into her hair and watched through hooded eyes as she sucked his dick—something he’d imagined so many times it wasn’t even funny. She didn’t go easy, no, she meant business. She kept the suction tight, took him deep, used her tongue just right. And he knew he’d blow his fucking load down her throat if he didn’t pull out now.

Using his grip on her hair, he snatched her head up. “Lay back,” he snarled.

She did so while he stepped out of the pants that were puddled on the floor. She made a beautiful sight—her eyes fevered, her lips swollen, her nipples taut, her thighs spread, her pussy glistening. He’d spent too many nights jacking off to the thought of her as he lay on this bed. Now she was splayed out on it, ready for him.

Kneeling between her thighs, he ghosted his fingers over her plump folds. “This pussy would look so pretty covered in my come.” So would those gorgeous breasts, as it happened. Maybe they’d get to that later.

He palmed her ass, tilted her hips, and lodged the head of his dick in her pussy. “Tell me you want me inside you.” The first time they’d had sex, neither of them had been in control. Neither had been thinking, only feeling. This time, they were both well-aware of what they were doing. And he wanted to hear her say she wanted this.

He draped himself over her, caught both her wrists, and pinned them above her head. He stared into her eyes as he bit out, “Say it.”

“I want you.” She curled her legs around his waist. “Fuck me.”

Growling, he roughly punched his hips forward, forcing every inch of his cock inside her. Son of a bitch, her pussy clamped down on him—scorching hot and so damn wet. If he could stay in her twenty-four/seven, he would.