Page 87 of Almost Yours
And he’s sitting right here, saying he wants both.
No, this isn’t scaring me away at all.
“I fucked this all up,” he mutters. “Didn’t I, Violet?”
I lean forward, my hands finding his shoulders. I use them to brace myself as I move to straddle him. His eyes widen, hands automatically going to my waist.
“No, you didn’t,” I whisper, lowering myself until our bodies are flush. “Show me what you want.”
His grip tightens, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features.
“I trust you,” I say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I always have.”
My kiss barely lands before his hand comes up, gripping my jaw—not gentle this time. He doesn’t pull me away, but doesn’t rush in, either. He just holds me there, thumb pressing into my cheek.
Then his mouth crashes into mine.
It’s hungry and claiming, restraint no longer an option. His other hand locks around my hip, fingers biting hard.
I lied earlier. The bruises dohurt, but I welcome the pain. I find myselfenjoyingit. The only words that keep repeating in my mind arehis, his, his.
He devours me, his tongue claiming, teeth grazing. I grip his shoulders, marveling at the way hard muscle tenses beneath my fingers, how solid he feels when he moves. One second, I’m in front of him. The next, the world tilts, and I’m on my back, the mattress yielding beneath me as his weight settles in.
Pinned.
The realization sends a thrilling jolt straight through me.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he growls against my throat, teeth scraping the sensitive skin there. “Every time I look at you, I want to strip you down.”
His hand glides down between us, finding where I’m already slick. He pushes two fingers inside me, and I arch up with a gasp.
“Rowan,” I moan, my hips lifting to meet his hand.
“You like that?” His voice is rough against my ear. “You like when I fuck you with my fingers?”
“Yes.”
He withdraws, and I whimper at the loss. Then he shifts, moving lower, his broad shoulders pushing my thighs apart. His eyes meet mine, dark and hungry, as he settles between my legs.
“I’m going to taste you,” he says, “and I’m not stopping until you’re screaming, Violet.”
The first stroke of his tongue has me clutching at the sheets.His hands grip my thighs so hard I know there will be more bruises tomorrow.
I don’t care. I want them all.
His tongue is relentless as he laps at me, his stubble scraping roughly against my sensitive skin. The contrast between his soft tongue and harsh grip is almost too much, and yet, not nearly enough.
He sucks my clit, fingers digging deeper into my thighs, forcing them wider apart.
“Rowan, please…”
He silences me with his tongue, thrusting it inside me with zero warning and no mercy. My back bows off the mattress, a sharp cry tearing free as ecstasy crashes over me in waves.
He lifts his head to look up at me, pupils blown wide. “I told you I’m not stopping until you scream, baby. I meant it.”
Then he’s back between my thighs, and he feasts on me like my reactions are fuel, like every gasp and broken sound is permission.
I shatter. The scream he promised rips out of me, my whole body locking around the feeling as it crests and crashes. My hands fist in his hair, my legs shaking violently, but he doesn’t stop.
