Page 50 of Preacher

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She leaned into him, her breasts crushed against that wall of thick muscle. Slipping her arms around him, she clawed at his lower belly, and he hissed in pleasure then moaned, thrusting his hips. She kissed the nape of his neck, burying her face in his silky, rebel-long hair. Dragging her nails against his ripped abs, she glided up his torso, taking her time circling his nipples with her palms, then scratching over them, his quick intake of air and soft male sounds turned her on.

She continued to kiss his neck and shoulders, her stiff nipples rubbing against his back, arching for the same kind of attention from him, but she wasn’t done yet.

“Karasu,” he whispered, the agony of his desire threaded through his sexy voice.

She loved the sound of his need, wanted more. “Not yet. Let me have you. All of you.”

She rubbed her breasts against the slope of his tense, muscled back, her fingers dug into his chest and shoulders, reveling in the skin-to-skin contact. Trailing down his chest and hard abs, she came to his thick, straining erection, that part of him so gorgeous and magnificent as he was. He was panting now in anticipation.

His cock was hot and smooth as she cupped him in her palm, stroking him all the way down to his base. The tactile feel of him was so arousing, the physical desire a no-brainer, but it was all the other emotional chaos swirling within that made her feel as though her carefully guarded life was spinning out of control.

He was a catalyst in more ways than one.

She fondled his balls as she stroked once, twice, and glided her thumb over the swollen head of his cock. His heart beat against her chest, moans rumbling from his chest, vibrating through her. “You are so fucking beautiful,” she whispered, blowing hot air against his neck and ear.

He cried out, his voice hoarse as he thrust hard into her snug grasp. She followed him with her hips, her core aching beyond anything she’d ever remembered. “I’m so wet for you,” she whispered.

“Luna, please,” he begged, his voice saturated with pleasure, crazy-wild to come, to have her and lose it in her heat. Something she wanted desperately. She rolled around his body and cupped his face in her hands and a shudder coursed through him as he closed his arms around her in a rough, desperate embrace.

His face was contorted with raw need, his touch rough and frantic. Heat, hunger, and urgency shone molten in his quicksilver eyes. His intense gray eyes bored into her, searing her with that burning look.

There was nothing slow and sweet about the way he kissed her. Greedy and ravenous, he tilted her head for a better fit and let loose all the pent-up hunger, need, and lust clawing at him. She knew because she was feeling it herself. He took from her lips without hesitation or reserve, and took some more, and she was right there with him, giving him her mouth, her tongue, and soon, her soft, willing body.

A sense of urgency and impatience built between them, hotter and more vital than anything she’d ever had in all her barren adult life. It made her head spin and her core throb and pulse.

“Boyce,” she pleaded this time. “Please…” He was so hard, and she wanted every inch of him, his erection curving up from his body as if begging for her touch. She wanted her mouth on him, tried to break the kiss, but he resisted, ravaging her mouth.

“Please. Let me have you.” She fought, and he groaned, panting as he released her. “I can’t, Luna. I..I—”

“Please.” He clenched his jaw, his eyes shadowed and dilated, possessive and bright with need. “Sayit.Tellme what you want. I took it before without your permission. Now I want all of you.”

He struggled for breath, then his voice rasped out. “Give me head, babe. Suck me with that beautiful mouth.”

She took his mouth, those fine, sculpted lips, and drank in his dark stubble lining that strong, firm jaw.

The scar on his chest caught her attention and she caressed the rough skin with her tongue and heard him suck in a surprised breath in response to her tender touch. She moved down, capturing one of his rigid nipples between her lips. She laved the erect nub of flesh, sucked him hard, and grazed the tip with the edge of her teeth. A groan rumbled up from his chest as she moved lower, spreading hot, wet kisses on his taut, flat belly. She dropped down to his jutting erection, wrapping her fingers around the hard, velvet-textured length of him, and felt him pulse in her tight grip. She took him in her mouth, his skin hot and salty against the stroke of her tongue. He shuddered and tangled his hands in her hair, and she sucked him, taking him as deep as she could, giving her what she needed. She worked him over hard with her mouth, teased him with her tongue, and made his whole body shake with the restraint of trying to hold back.

He was so goddamn beautiful.

“Luna,” he pleaded.

With one last stroke, she released him and said, “Ravage me. Don’t hold back. I need your lust.”

His nostrils flared, and stark male desire heated his eyes. He crowded her against the window and pushed her legs wide apart, his dark head dipping down. The feel of his hot, damp mouth on her sensitive thigh made her moan and ache for a more intimate connection. He scraped his teeth and swirled his tongue as he burned a ravenous path up to the pulsating core of her.

She moaned as he licked her clit in a hot, searing stroke. Seeming ruthless in his quest to make her come, he closed his searing mouth over her and plunged his tongue in deep. The pleasure was sharp and riveting and stole her breath. The low throbbing turned into an avalanche of pleasure as she grabbed handfuls of his hair wanting more, needing more.

His wicked tongue worked her over as hard as she had him and unable to hold back, she let out a cry and arched sinuously against his mouth as she came in a burning wave that shook her entire body.

He forced his way between her legs, and she reached down to guide him, but it must have been too much. Grasping both wrists, he pulled her arms up and pinned them to the glass above her head, giving him complete control of the situation.

His strength and aggression almost had her coming again. Then with a hoarse groan, he slid one arm under her hips and jerked her up as he entered her with one savage thrust, as if trying to penetrate her very soul.

Karasu cried out and arched against him, an inarticulate passion claiming her. He bent his head to cover her mouth in a punishing kiss that blasted through all her emotional defenses, that stripped away reality. Drinking in the sounds that were driven from her, he thrust into her again, a fragmented groan shuddering from him. “Yes,” she cried. “Oh, Boyce, yes.”

He growled low and deep. Before she realized what he was going to do, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. In the next instant, her back hit the mattress and he was back on top of her, her hands once again manacled in his. He pushed her thighs apart and slammed back inside her. She could hardly catch her breath at the stunning pleasure. He slowed down, his thrust deep and staccato. He stared down into her face, his face raw and contorted with his need for her. It humbled her that she had pushed him to this…this display of how deep his feelings went for her. God, he scared her and drew her all at the same time.

She struggled out of his grasp, sliding her hand to the back of his neck, drawing him closer. A tremor coursed through him, and he thrust again, pausing, his hips moving again and again until she thought she’d die from the emotion and need in his eyes and the aching pleasure. He looked so savage and so incredibly sexy.


Tags: Zoe Dawson Romance