Page 122 of Marked By His Hunger
He kissed me like a Monster laying claim to his mate.
He kissed like he was starving for it.
Like he’d been waiting centuries.
For me.
His tongue swept into my mouth in slow, deliberate strokes that made my knees weak even lying down.
He angled my head where he wanted it.
Controlled. Confident. Possessive.
And I loved it.
Every breathtakingly beautiful second of it.
I wanted more.
That burning hunger in my belly shifted.
It wasn’t empty anymore.
It was filling.
Like his mouth was nourishment.
Like something inside me was drinking him in.
My fingers tangled in his hair, and I pulled him closer.
Harder.
Deeper.
His growl vibrated against my lips and straight down into my core.
My panties went wet instantly.
More.
More.
MORE.
The word echoed inside my skull.
Was that me?
Or him?
He pressed down, heavy and solid and warm.
His thigh slid between my legs.
I gasped.
He knew exactly where I ached.
