Lords of Wrath (Royals of Forsyth University, #2)

by Angel Lawson

I turn to watch her flushed face, reaching up to brush her chin. “Come on, baby,” I say, nudging her toward me. “Give me your mouth.” She complies mindlessly, lips parted as her head lolls to the side, allowing me to lick into the seam. Her tongue is shy and lazy, barely pressing back against my own as I kiss her. I take what’s mine anyway, crushing our mouths together as my hand returns to her center. I feel her hand come up to wind in my hair and then swallow her gasp as I rub hard and insistent against her clit. Fuck, I missed this, too. Story has the most docile kisses, sweet and lax no matter the rhythm or heat of the moment, like she’s content to be tongue-fucked. That’s exactly what I give her, licking in and out of her mouth like I own it—and I suppose, in some way, I do. My own words come breathless when I say, “Right before I came, I was going to pull out and take the condom off.” I can feel her body starting to clench up, so close to breaking that she’s quivering. “Don’t,” she says against my lips, begging so sweetly. “Please don’t stop.” “I would have wanted it off so I could fill you up.” Maybe I’m shaking a little, too, but most of it is restraint. Not enough of it, though. My voice is growing too hard—too harsh—teeth scraping against her lip with a snarl. “I would have buried my load so far inside of you that you could taste it.”