Amora
Maybe I should be usedto the way Kian kisses by now, but I’m not. I don’t think I ever will be, honestly.
His lips move against mine with bruising intensity, his tongue swiping over my lower lip before pressing into my mouth, demanding entry. I open to him, and he angles his head to take it deeper, plunging his tongue into my mouth like he’s trying to lay some kind of claim on me.
One large hand splays across my back, the other wandering down to palm at my ass as he presses me harder against the tree he was just punching. The rough bark scrapes against my skin, and I’m probably getting his blood smeared on my shoulder, but I don’t care about that.
I don’t care about anything.
I can’t think about anything except the whiskey and woodsmoke of Kian’s scent and the low growls he makes in his throat as he devours me.
Kissing Kian has never been a gentle experience, but now it’s something else entirely. It’s like being swept up in a hurricane, my feet dragged off the ground and my body tossed about by the brutal winds. Like being carried away, unsure where I’m going to land and if I’ll still be in one piece when I do.
Heat and something almost like a survival instinct rise up in me at the same time, and I push against Kian’s grip as I slide my tongue into his mouth, battling with his as if I’m trying to fight against a force of nature.
I’m making little noises too, grunts and pants and soft mewling noises that are swallowed up by Kian’s mouth.
When he drags his lips away from mine, I suck in a breath like I haven’t filled my lungs in days.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he mutters, his words barely intelligible as he trails his mouth over my jaw, then down the column of my throat. He drops his head lower, dragging his tongue over the bare skin of my breast before latching his lips around my nipple.
His front teeth bite down hard on the stiff bud as his hand comes up to palm my other breast, rolling that nipple between his fingers. The twin bolts of pleasure and pain make my mouth drop open, a startled cry falling from my lips as a gush of wetness seeps from my pussy.
Kian goes still for a moment, angling his head just a little to look up at my face through his dark lashes. Then he bites down again, even harder this time, at the same moment he pinches my nipple between two of his knuckles, tugging on it almost viciously.
The spark of pain is more pronounced this time, sharp and immediate… and the rush of pleasure afterward is even more intense.
“Fuck… Kian…”
I let out a sobbing moan, and he snarls, pulling back and straightening his spine to stare down at me. His pupils are so wide that they’ve overtaken nearly all of his irises, leaving just a hint of dark brown and the gold rings that burn at the edges.
Fire and darkness.
Just like the man himself.
His nostrils flare as he hooks an arm around my lower back, dragging me closer. At the same time, one of his feet kicks mine wider apart, and he wedges his muscled thigh between my legs as he pins me against his broad body.
My clit drags against his thick thigh, and I shudder involuntarily, my lips slightly parted as I stare up at him. Unable to help myself, I roll my hips against him, getting more friction on my clit and making my lower body throb.
“Look at you,” he rasps in a low voice, breathing hard. His free hand moves up to grip my jaw in a tight hold, tilting my head up toward his. “You’re so fucking hungry for me, so desperate. You’d make yourself come just by humping my leg, wouldn’t you?”
Anger and blazing heat rip through me at his words.
I hate that he can see through me so well.
I fucking hate that he’s right.
“Do it,” he commands, his arm banding against me even tighter, keeping me pinned in place. “Make yourself come.”
My body goes stiff for a moment. I’m tempted to resist, to deny him just to prove that I still can.
But the thing is, Kian’s not as in control of this moment as he’d like to think. He’s dragged me so close to his body that I can feel his cock throbbing against my lower belly, and as we stay frozen in place for a few long seconds, it pulses against me, droplets of precum smearing over my skin.
He knows how much I want him in this moment, but he can’t fucking deny that he wants me too.
So I hold his gaze almost defiantly and roll my hips again, dragging my clit over his hard thigh as a soft moan falls from my lips. I do it again, shifting my stance a little to get the exact angle that sends pleasure spiraling through my core.
It’s messy and animalistic, no finesse or romance to be found anywhere as I ride his thigh shamelessly, humping his leg just like he said I would. He’s got me pinned so tightly that I don’t have that much range of motion, but I have enough to get what I need.
And I take it.
My breathing gets faster, and I stare up into his burning, unblinking eyes as I push myself closer and closer to the edge. I can feel myself leaving a smear of arousal on his thigh, but I don’t care. All I care about is the desperate need to break the tension building inside me, the need to feel pleasure pour through me like liquid fire.
“No one else can make you feel this way, can they?” Kian growls, his voice tinged with an edge of the same desperation I feel.
I don’t even bother trying to respond—not by speaking or even shaking my head. His grip on me is so tight that I probably couldn’t move my head anyway, and I don’t want to say the truth out loud.
No.
No one has ever made me feel this way, and no one ever could.
Frost and Malix both make me feel so many things, each of those two men affecting me in ways no one else does too. All three of the feral shifters have their own unique way of getting under my skin, of tearing down my walls even when I try not to let them.
And this?