All Chained Up (Devil's Rock #1)(38)

He looked at her from beneath heavy lids. “This is how I like to eat my ice cream,” he said thickly, and then she felt him there, his hot mouth closing over the wet, chilled tip of her breast like he was starving and she the long denied feast.

She cried out as his warm tongue sucked her nipple into his mouth.

She grabbed the back of his head, urging him closer. Everything in her tightened and squeezed, pleasure centering where his mouth fed on her, his tongue swirling wildly. Her sex pulsed, clenching in agony.

“Knox,” she pleaded, crying out again as he suddenly turned on her other breast, sucking hungrily, licking every bit of ice cream off her, not even missing the sticky sweetness that rolled down the sides.

Her sounds were wild. Embarrassing little pants that verged into full-on wails. Especially when his teeth scraped one stiff nipple and his fingers pinched down on the other one.

The pressure inside her built, twisting into something that she couldn’t stop. She actually did try to resist, digging in her heels, too alarmed at the intensity, too terrified at the new sensations. Shudders began to overtake her. “Oh, God, God, God . . .”

He spoke against her nipple, his words muffled as his tongue played on her flesh. “That’s it, baby. Let it happen. Come for me.”

Was that what was happening? She was actually about to have an orgasm?

She shook her head. She felt out of control. Too wild, too removed from her own body.

“Let yourself have it,” he said, his voice darker, harder. His hand delved between her splayed thighs then so that his fingers could rub over her crotch.

She gasped, heat flaming her face at the truth he felt there. Even through the layers of her panties and leggings he felt it. He knew.

“Oh, baby. You’re so wet. You must be hurting.” Those firm fingers of his rubbed up and down her and the friction was unbearable, the pressure so sweet, especially when he grazed her clit.

Just like that, she exploded, coming apart with a shriek and surging against his chest.

She was still shaking, gasping, stars blinking behind her eyes as he picked her up and carried her out of the kitchen like she was a feather in his arms. She couldn’t form coherent speech as he walked them into her dark bedroom, his body tense and pulsing all around her—a direct contrast to her. Lethargy pulled at her, making her muscles limp as noodles.

He set her on the middle of her queen-size bed and stood back, stripping off his clothes. His eyes glittered at her in the near dark. The only light in her room spilled through the open bedroom door and the thin spaces between the slats of her blinds.

She blinked lazily, appreciating what she could see of him—the amazing chest and ridged abdomen. She wished she could see more, in better lighting . . . wished she could shake off this fog of postorgasm bliss. Her gaze traveled down his thin happy trail, stopping at his hands yanking open his fly. He shoved down his jeans and briefs in one move. At her first glimpse of him, her eyes flared wide and her sex reawakened with a swift pulsing clench. He was enormous and standing straight out, ready and eager to penetrate. To claim.

A faint tremor of nervousness skated down her spine. He fished a condom out of his wallet and came over her as she inched back warily on the bed.

“I’m not sure that’s going to fit,” she breathed.

He prowled up her body, his hands walking up either side of her. “You felt it, too. This thing between us. Didn’t you?” he asked roughly.

She nodded, unable to deny it. It was the truth. On some base, primal level Briar had always known. Her body knew before her mind ever understood. She was his for the taking.

He seized the elastic of her leggings and pulled them off her in one smooth move, reminding her so much of the predator she first thought him to be in the prison.

She trembled under him in nothing but a pair of panties. He flattened a hand over her abdomen, fingers splayed wide, the base of his palm directly over her sex, cupping her mound so that she had to bite back a moan.

He looked up the length of her body, his heavy-lidded eyes snaring hers. “This is where I want to be. Where I’ve wanted to be since you first put your hands on me.”

The inner muscles of her sex squeezed as though in agreement. It wanted him there, too, but she still felt a stab of apprehension. “You’re too . . . big.”

He rotated his hand until his fingers where diving down along the seam of her, the only barrier the thin cotton of her panties.

She choked back a cry, arching her spine slightly at the sliding pressure of his fingers against her. “I belong here,” his deep voice said so confidently. “We’re going to fit together perfectly.” He knuckled aside her underwear and slipped a finger inside, spearing her deep. She came off the bed at the penetration.

“God, you’re tight.” His words came in quick pants as he continued to move that finger, thrusting in deeply, steadily, curving upward until he found that spot she never knew existed. He worked in a second finger, stretching her, readying her for him. She knew that, and she took him, wanting every bit of pleasure he was giving her. Wanting what was to come and wanting it to never end.

She started to shake as another orgasm welled up inside her.

“Oh, no. Not yet.” His fingers slipped out of her. She felt a tug and heard the slight rip of her underwear. But she didn’t care. She writhed on the bed, at a loss for the sudden emptiness inside her.