Her eyes widen, a gasp catching in her throat.
“Blake?” she asks. “What’s—”
No. Don’t talk, darlin’.
That’s what I’m telling her by stealing her mouth, robbing her voice, begging her to sing to me with her lips instead. I’ll pull the moans out of her if I have to.
There’s something about her voice.
Whether she’s murmuring sweet things to me, teasing, laughing, sighing, or crying out in pleasure.
No matter what she does, it’s always music to me.
And I need to make her sing her pretty heart out right the hell now.
I don’t think I’ve ever touched a woman like I touch Peace today—shoving my fingers under her clothes, playing over her body in animal touches, exploring every inch of her with just my fingertips.
Her tits fall into my hands. I knead her rough. Loving her for being fragile, but loving her even more for being something I can break.
She arches for me, giving up these lush whines as I flop her back against the bed, stripping her one garment at a time.
Taking my time.
Taking her in.
Taking my woman.
Making this last when it’s one thing I can hold on to, with everything else being so fucked.
She’s a flower in the wind. One fine day she might blow away.
So I let my lust memorize her.
With every bleeding look that follows the curve of pale shoulders, the swell of her body, the hourglass taper of her thighs.
With every touch of my fingers.
With the way I savor every frantic sound she makes, how responsive she is when I grab at her hair and pull just right, taking her lips like I’m starving.
I pluck every string she’s got, making her quiver.
And oh, hell, does she sing for me.
Her voice rises in moans almost lyrical. They slur perfect notes even when she’s crying out for me as I taste her.
“Blake!” she whimpers, pushing her pussy against my thigh.
“Not yet,” I growl, giving her hair a fierce tug that makes her eyes flash. “Hold still.”
And she listens while I run the full gamut of Peace and then some.
Her honey lips, the dark inviting depths of her mouth, her wildflower tongue.
Then her snowy throat, sucking at her pulse, trying to leave marks.
I know I’ve lost my shit.
I know.
But I’m feeling territorial, and it doesn’t help one bit when my nostrils flare, smelling how bad she wants me. Her scent comes thick on the air, something luscious and sweet like cream and cake.
My mouth sails onward to the dip between her tits, already filming with sweat as her temperature roars, glistening in a sheen against pale flesh.
The pink, tempting tips of her nipples, delicate and pale as candy, roll against my tongue in perfect hard swells. I can’t help but toy with her again and again, drunk on the way she jerks, tenses, shudders, ripples flowing down her in waves.
My cock beats like a jackhammer, so hard it could bust up cement.
I’ll tell you one thing.
A man doesn’t know intoxicating till he feels a woman respond to him like this.
Like all I have to do is kiss her—pressing my lips to her belly just below her navel where that little gem shines—to make her desire overflow.
Hell, she can’t contain her voice, her writhing, the mad, sexy way she fists at my hair.
“Blake!” she whines my name again.
I love how open she is.
So free, so easy, so hungry.
Her hips show me exactly what she wants when she spreads her thighs and lets me see her—every delicate pink fold, every wet curl of flesh, the way her pussy moves like she’s already craving me for dear life.
It ain’t even a tease.
As if I could deny her invitation.
As if I could resist her feast laid out in front of me, begging to be ravished with the psycho hunger burning me down.
And goddamn, do I feast.
She smells so fucking good I can’t stop myself.
My tongue goes to work, skimming up her thighs, dipping between her folds. I lick hard and wild over every inch of her like a starved beast, tracing delicately along the outer flutters of pink to gather that first tart wetness on my tongue, then searching deeper, craving more.
She’s better than any booze ever invented.
Pure addiction, drawing me in, driving my tongue to coax her wet heat even as I drink every bit of her with a desperation that scalds my blood.
Fuck.
I’ll remember this for life, the way her thighs clench against my shoulders.
The way her belly tightens and ripples.
The way she screams Blake! like she’s in agony, her fingers clawed in my shoulders, both pushing and dragging me closer still.
Finally, I let her clit have it. Suck it between my teeth, hold it, lash it with one fiery lick after the next. The devil himself couldn’t eat pussy any hotter than I devour her just now.
And she responds. Oh, mama, her body spikes up in a tight arch, and I growl, pinning her down.