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“Now, I know ya ain’t wonderin’ if the wild goddamned animal has got a wife,” he laughs.
“You’ll still be warm when I come inside of you,” he says, scooping his pleasure from his skin into his cupped palm. “And then I’ll eat what’s left.”
“Look at me when you swallow.”
“Kiss it clean, little fawn,” he tells her. “Lick the rope of your noose.”
Keeping his gaze set on her, he sinks two fingers into the wound on his shoulder. The girth of them widens the small circle. She feels him penetrate the red parts of her. Aches for it to be true, even as crimson streams down his chest. Then, above his heart, he writes her name in his blood. A declaration. A threat. When he turns, he’ll devour the letters on his skin.
He would have killed her like that. She would have let him. Fated mates. Please, God, no.
Ridge ignores him. “Little fawn,” he insists. “Spread your legs when I speak to you.”
Instead he pushes her knee until it’s pinned against the wall and he can smell her dripping down to the chair. Yes, he’ll lick the chair too. He’ll scrape the fucking paint off of it.
“I’ll only swallow some of the flesh at your thighs,” Ridge growls. “But I’ll nip and suck at your folds and that sweet bud in between until the only taste left is my spit and your pleasure like salted fucking caramel on my tongue.” Her toes curl under the table. He hears them. Her breath is ragged and she is drenched for him. “Every time you come for me, Sadie,” he adds. “I’ll let you live another day.”
How cruel is the Devil, that he’d send evil after her and she’d fall in love with him? How cruel is that evil to leave her now?
If you think even your Devil can cut through me, I’ll show you how wrong you are. Because he could open the earth underneath our feet and I would fuck you in our fall. I would devour him and free every damned soul just to see you in the sun again.”
“Then hide well,” he growls. “Because when I find you, you’ll have no other god but me.”
He’d like to sleep with his head perched between her splayed legs, her juices baptizing his crown. Waking intermittently to lick and nip at her folds until she drenches his chin. What a way to live, what a way to die…
“How did you find me?” she whispers. Her. Fucking. Voice.
He smiles. “No. Because that’s how it felt when you left. You took the air with you.”
It’s the only thing he can do anymore, isn’t it? Fuck her. Love her. Wait for her to die.
“You are my gravity,” he says, his voice a near-growl. “You are my sky, my fucking ocean, my moon, my air. You’re my religion. You’re what I reach for, don’t…”
He punches the wood of the dresser and it collapses inward. “Don’t leave me,” he breathes. “Don’t take yourself away from me.”
“You,” he says, spreading his fingers and resting his hand on her belly. “Are creation itself.”
