Shattered (Extreme Risk 2)

Her nipples scrape against my chest and I’m dying to see them, to taste them. But it’s cold out here, too cold to pull her sweater off, so I content myself with snaking a hand between our bodies and beneath her sweater to roll first one nipple between my fingers, then the other.

“Oh, God,” she whispers, her head falling back against the rough stone wall even as her back arches and she presses into my touch.

I do it again, squeezing a little harder this time, and nearly come in my pants at the sudden rush of heat I feel against my cock.

Fuck, Tansy’s hot. So, so, so hot.

I slide my hand lower, slip it inside her leggings this time. Find her clit—hard and small and wet—and stroke it once, twice.

“Ash!” This time my name is almost a scream on her lips and I slam my mouth down on hers in a belated effort to strangle the sound—not because I don’t like it, but because I want to see this through, want to make sure she comes and I won’t be able to do that if some nosy hotel employee comes to investigate.

She latches on to me the second our mouths connect and suddenly she’s biting at my lips, sucking my tongue deep inside her mouth. At this point I’m so desperate to be inside her—anywhere, everywhere—that I let her. For long seconds, I know nothing but the feel of her tongue twisting and tangling around my own, the feel of her body twisting and tangling around my own.

“Ash!” She pulls her mouth away, and this time she’s the one kissing my jaw, the one sliding her mouth down to my throat to lick and suck and bite at my collarbone. “I need—”

“I know, baby.” I let her kiss me one more time—because how can I not when it feels so fucking good—then slide her body gently down the wall.

She moans a protest, her hands clutching at me like she’s afraid I’m going to disappear. But I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not yet.

Her legs are a little unsteady as her feet touch the ground, and I hold her up even as I drop to my knees in front of her.

“Ash?” For the first time since this started, she sounds young and uncertain.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I murmur, my hands already pushing her leggings down to the middle of her thighs. “I just want to make you feel good. That’s all.”

She moans at my words, and the sound shoots straight through me. I’m on fire, so hard that it hurts, and I know—I know—if I don’t get my mouth on her soon that I’m going to explode.

Pushing her sweater up just a little—just enough for me to see what I need to—I lean forward and blow a long, slow, steady stream of air right against her clit.

Chapter 14

Tansy

Oh my God. Ohmygod. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Ash is—

His mouth—

His tongue—

His lips—

He—

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Ash’s mouth is everywhere—everywhere—and I don’t know what to do. Don’t know how to deal with the feelings, the pleasure, rushing through me like a waterfall. I feel like I’m drowning, all these sensations welling up inside of me, pulling me under. Taking me over.

It’s terrifying and exhilarating and fascinating, all at the same time. I mean, I understand the concept of what’s going on here—I’m not an idiot. Plus, I’ve read thousands of young adult and romance novels in the years I spent sitting in the hospital, waiting to die—or for the chance to live. But feeling it, living it, is a million times different than reading about it in a book. It’s powerful and overwhelming and just more, so much more than I ever anticipated.

My hands reach for him of their own volition, tangling in the cool, silky strands of his hair as he kisses his way across my concave stomach, pausing to lick and suck at the sharpness of my hip bone.

My knees tremble and I press myself against him, my fingers tightening in his hair in an effort to hold myself up. He groans, deep in his throat and the soft nibbles become a sharp nip that sends shock waves of sensation tearing through me. I cry out, clutch at him, and Ash does it a second time. A third time. Then his tongue darts out and laves at the little stings until all that’s left is a heat that burns all the way to my core.

I bite my lip against the whimper rising inside of me, but it doesn’t work. The high-pitch sound escapes, hangs in the crisp night air all around us. Ash laughs a little, a low, wicked sound that only turns me on more. He kisses his way back across my stomach, lower this time so that his tongue traces along the edge of my mons, before he gives my other hip bone the exact same attention.

It feels good, really good. Shockingly good, considering I’ve never considered my hip bone of any particular erogenous value before. I mean, how could I when up until now they’ve been used for biopsies, my hips used as pincushions for shot after shot after shot, the flesh around them so sore some days that just the feel of the soft cotton of my pajamas sliding over the bruises made me wince. Not to mention how skinny I am, the bone pressing right up against the thin layers of skin grotesquely.