You can’t be serious, Jillian almost said. But he sounded serious. He sounded as if he had never meant anything more than he meant, right now, that she was beautiful.

There was a hitch in her throat. She said, “You’re beautiful too.”

He bent down further and pressed his lips to her mound, lingering there, his breath warm. Then he licked into her—just one solid touch right where she needed him and then nothing but teases, all along her inner folds, feather-light. She felt like all of her nerve endings were coming unraveled. Theo’s impossibly hot mouth moved over her sensitive skin and made her melt. She dug her hands into the sheets and moaned, no longer able to think of the sound of that or of the noise they were making as Theo’s weight shifted or as her shoulders and hips jostled the bed.

They could bring the whole house down around her ears for all she cared. What had this house ever done for her?

Given her Theo, maybe.

Suddenly her thighs tightened around his head and she bent up, tugging at his hair as he kissed her right at her center. She came in a seemingly unending wave of pleasure, so long and rolling she almost couldn’t stand it. She bucked up over and over again.

“Theo, Theo—”

He pressed his hand flat between her legs and she ground helplessly against his palm, riding out the last of the lingering aftershocks.

She closed her eyes and, for a bonus, covered them with her hand.

He pried her fingers gently away.

“Don’t hide.”

“I’m not hiding,” Jillian said. “I’m dead.”

He circled her navel with his thumb. “Have I seized your assets?”

Jillian looked at him: this ridiculously perfect man with his body that could have been a Greek sculpture, with his loose lock of hair hanging down against his forehead, with his lips shiny from her, with those gemstone eyes. She was falling for him. She couldn’t deny that any longer. After the orgasm she’d just had, she would have to be crazy to not take all of him she could get.

But never mind all that, she decided, because right now there was one part of him in particular that she wanted but didn’t have.

She traced his lips and he kissed her fingertips.

“My assets have been seized,” Jillian said. “Your turn to forfeit to me.”

Theo said, “Whatever you want.”

She drew her heel up against his firm, perfectly-shaped ass, and used that to nudge him up towards her.

“Well,” she said. “I don’t want to be crude or anything.”

Though, really, with her job, she heard every teenaged phrase for sex there was, and no one was better—well, no one was more prolific, anyway—at coming up with sex slang than teenagers. She could probably make him blush if she really put her mind to it.

“You could be euphemistic,” Theo suggested.

She could feel him against her inner thigh, his cock still hard and immense. Patience really was his virtue, much more than it was hers. She wanted him inside her so badly. Usually after she came, she felt like the desire had all been wrung out of her. With him, her wanting felt infinite and inexhaustible, as if she could ride him until the bed broke once and for all.

Euphemisms.

“I would like you to pluck my flower.”

“I think that’s only for virgins,” Theo said. He paused. “Wait, are you—”

She snorted, probably unbecomingly. “Not for quite a while now. And I don’t know that I’d call myself one after what you just did even if I had been. Okay, try this one: I want you to vanquish my defenses. Ravish me, Theo. Rip my bodice. You know, I come across all the ways of making sex sound dirtier, not usually the ways to clean it up.”

“Should I endeavor to teach you the gentler arts of love?”

To hell with it.

“You should,” Jillian said, “get inside me before I die of wanting you to. Then you should screw me until I can’t move.”


Tags: Zoe Chant U.S. Marshal Shifters Paranormal