Not yet.
I need him to quench this raging thirst.
Closing my eyes, I sigh as his thumb rolls over my nipple.
“You really enjoy these, don’t you?” I ask.
“They’re the finest pair of tits I’ve ever seen, touched, or sucked. A perfect handful and perfectly natural, but what I love most is the sound you make when I go to town. No question.”
Yep. I’m done for.
It’s a miracle his blue-eyed hellfire doesn’t set the whole room ablaze.
I smile and sigh, rubbing my fingers into the meat of his palm, between his fingers. I move back to his torso, rub his abs down to his briefs, slide my fingers under the elastic, and glide off his lap so I can finally remove them.
His thick manhood springs free, just as insane as I thought it’d be.
I take it in my hand, ready to tame the beast.
Mag works his fingers down my belly while I’m still standing. A sultry rush knifes through me when he fists my lace, jerking it past my knees.
“Fuck,” he whispers, his eyes riveted between my legs, his nostrils flaring like he can smell how wet I am.
Dying.
I may not survive this. But if that’s the way it goes, tell everyone Brina Bristol died in ecstasy.
Mag pulls me in so we’re face-to-face, then throws me on the bed, shifting us so we’re on our sides. He strokes the inside of my thighs, rough hands on silky skin, up to the crease where my legs meet.
He traces both sides, worshiping my inner thighs, before his fingers are in me.
“Oh!” I scream, legs shaking, then cover my mouth because I don’t mean to be so loud. “S-sorry.”
“These walls are thick. The boy can’t hear us so far away,” he says, a wicked smile turning up his lips.
His finger pumps in and out again, stroking against fragile, insanely sensitive places I didn’t know I had.
I’m reeling. Wrecked. Thoughtless.
“Mag, we shouldn’t—”
“You worry too much. Let me help you stay quiet.” His lips seal mine shut and his tongue chases me into delirium.
Am I still breathing? Because this is heaven.
Skin-to-skin with Magnus Heron, and the tenderness of his kiss stuns me.
I never thought he had it in him to kiss like he cherishes me, shifting his thumb against my clit, winding hypnotic circles until my head rolls back.
I hate to pull away, but his hands aren’t enough.
I need more.
So I wrap a leg around his, try pushing him on his back, but he holds firm.
“Not our first time, sweetheart.”
First time? Is this something that’s going to happen again?
Oh. My. God.
But I can’t contemplate it too long because my body burns with every pulse. Plus, I’ve just landed flat on my back.
His face hovers over mine, all hot breath and midnight-blue eyes so bright I think I’m blind.
Our lips brush as he lets out a carnal growl.
He possesses my mouth with his tongue, pushing his hand back between my legs, taking me to a place where there’s no more fight, doubt, or resistance.
His fingers claim my pussy with a roughness, a quickening pace that makes me tighten around his digits, sending me over the edge so embarrassingly fast I feel a full body flush coming on.
Oh, no.
He’s possessed all of me.
I’m twisting now, writhing against him, staring into a gaze that hasn’t softened, that only reaches down inside me and ignites a bigger fire by the second.
“Come for me, woman,” he grinds out, his throat so tight as he watches me. “Fucking shatter.”
I do.
On command.
Fully, helplessly, madly.
This fireball explodes in my belly, so deep and resonate, lifting me up and slamming me down. My fingers catch the sheets, clutching and tearing, desperate to hold on as those terrible—terribly awesome—fingers of his work me to a manic frenzy.
I’m coming so hard I can’t even help it.
Coming with my head thrashing, my teeth bared, and Mag flipping Heron watching the whole time.
Halfway through, he leans down, still stroking me to bliss. His lips attack mine, this time with a feral growl, and I’m done.
My lips are so full of his that there’s no chance to scream.
Just shake.
Just breathe and whimper and dig my nails into his back as he pumps into me, turning me into an exhausted mess.
He stays propped up, his weight gently pressed against me, stroking the same devilish fingers through my hair as my eyes flutter open.
“Welcome back, sweetheart. I should’ve known you’d come your soul out,” he whispers with a smirk.
I can’t believe I’m not spent, a boneless mess, but somehow I’m still wet. Still aching for this man and his dagger tongue to give me what I need at the deepest, primal level.
“Fair’s fair. Now I get to see you,” I tell him, reaching for his cock.
How can I not adore the sparkle in his eyes when I squeeze his shaft, stroking up and down, feeling his hot pre-come ooze across my hand?