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“I love your tits, baby.” His hands were rough, squeezing and massaging.

She loved the way he touched her as if he couldn’t get enough, as if he was in such a hurry to take every inch of her in. She caught at his hair, all that beautiful, messy, untamed hair that made him look like a fallen angel. Her nails slid down his back, long streaks of fire, to urge him on.

His mouth found the top of her right breast while his hands caressed underneath both breasts. His mouth was hot, lips velvet soft to match the gentle fingers stroking along the curves. Then his teeth nipped, and his fingers bit into her, kneading possessively. She arched into him, giving him more, wanting more. Those lightning strikes kept streaking like fiery arrows from her breasts to her clit, so that she clenched and clenched. Her hips bucked. Her sex wept.

“I love your mouth, Player,” she whispered. “Your hands on me.”

“My teeth. My cock. You fuckin’ love my body, baby, the way I love yours.”

She did. There was no denying that. He was nibbling at the sides of her breasts now. First one, then the other. Avoiding her nipples. She was dying for him to touch her there. To settle his mouth there. She had more than generous breasts. She remembered how much time he spent on them, worshipping them. He had even dribbled wax on them and slowly peeled it off. He’d wanted to eat off her breasts. He told her he wanted her to dance for him with nipple clamps on and that he’d have his brother, Ice, a jeweler, make her a beautiful set, one of a kind, with bells, just for her, to go with her anklet of bells.

She slid her hand down his body, trying to reach his cock, but he was too far. She could only dig her nails into his back and the tops of his hips to try to get him to where she wanted him to be.

He laughed softly against her breast, his breath warm. “Do you think you’re going to gain control by digging your nails into me? I like that you want me, Zyah. I love that you’re making that little keening mewl that says your sweet little pussy is hot as hell and slick for me. My cock is pressed against your thigh. You feel how hot it is? How hard? That’s all yours. But you’re going to wait until I take my time and claim every fuckin’ inch of you.”

She loved the way he did that. He talked to her like that, as if he owned her. As if her body belonged to him. He talked dirty. He was rough. He was gentle. She needed his kind of wild sex to feel alive. He brought out a side of her that, when they came together, made her truly complete. He made her feel beautiful and powerful. She loved being his.

“Well, let me have it.” She leaned into him and bit his shoulder and then soothed the sting with her tongue. She loved his skin. The taste of him. “Do you know how good I could make you feel?” She didn’t have to deliberately make her voice sultry; it was already that way—for him— for Player. Tempting him. Wanting him.

He retaliated, biting the left side of her breast and then the right, sending flaming arrows straight to her sex so that her hips bucked and she cried out. His tongue traced her areola, a long, slow sweep, very gentle. It felt so good she closed her eyes. He moved to her other breast, repeating that same sweet action, his tongue a wicked weapon, teasing her senses, drugging her until she couldn’t think properly.

His tongue went to her right nipple, flicking, circling. She found herself holding her breath. Arching her back. Trying to push her breast into the heat of his mouth. His hand came up to cup her breast, his thumb and finger finding her left nipple while his tongue worked her right. She wasn’t certain where to concentrate. His finger brushed her nipple. His thumb strummed as if it were a guitar string. Her belly tightened in anticipation. Liquid heat spilled between her legs.

“Player. Please. You’re killing me.”

He laughed softly. “You deserve it, woman. You’ve been killing me for days. Weeks.”

He blew on her nipple. Then his mouth covered her breast and sucked hard. Really hard. He drew her flesh into that scorching-hot cavern, teeth scraping, tugging, biting down until she wanted to scream with absolute desire, her hips bucking, one leg trying to steal out from under him to wrap around his thigh. His fingers caught her left nipple and pinched down slowly but kept going, taking her breath until she was arching up as high as she could, pushing into his hand and mouth at the same time. When he released her, he kissed his way from one breast to the other, the blue flames in his eyes nearly glowing as he surveyed the marks he’d left behind.


Tags: Christine Feehan Torpedo Ink Romance