Free Naughty Little Gift -- A Temptation Court Novella (Temptation Court, Book 1) by Angel Payne Page A

a risk. A huge one.” Her hand slides up, sneaking a little beneath my sweater, caressing the side of my neck. Once more, the breath I’ve just regulated is a wind storm in my chest. Outwardly, I suck it in as calmly as I can…praying to God the tempest between my legs is equally obedient. “I want to be worth that risk for you, Cassian.”
    I swallow hard. Run a hand along the back of her arm, up to her neck, around to her nape. “You already are.”
    “Bullsh—”
    I kiss her into silence, but with lingering tenderness. “Ssshhh. We’re not even halfway through the flight.” She draws breath to speak but I yank it right back out of her with another kiss—still lingering, not as patient. “We have time,” I grate. “Lots of time, all right? Let’s just—”
    And suddenly, I’m the one being cut off with a kiss. Correction: a kiss , borrowing my idea but very little else; incinerating my temperance on the sacrificial pyre of her passion. Correction: her passion. She is a fireball in my arms: a groaning, grabbing, greedy burst of need, twisting her slender fingers into my hair until our mouths are meshed, our chests are fitted, and our crotches are grinding with inescapable heat…and lust.
    Annnnd, the discreet hard-on is officially in my rearview. Who the hell have I tried to fool about that, anyway? Discretion is my Dulcinea when she’s near. A glorious, impossible dream.
    A soundtrack for another time—definitely not when my balls pulse like this, rocketing my shaft to a solid ten on the pain scale. The fucker fills and lengthens, punching at my fly in response to her incredible little mewls and erotic little writhes. She is going to kill me , and right now, I can think of no better way to go.
    When she finally relents, we are both breathing like goddamn freight trains—but she barely waits before pulling my hand free from her nape then guiding it down, down, down, until it’s formed to her inner thigh. With our gazes still bound, she rolls her hips…sliding her soft flesh against my trembling touch.
    But that’s not my undoing.
    Her awkward little swallow. The tentative flick of her tongue along the seam of her lips. The questioning glint in her eyes, so unsure about what she is doing but trusting herself—trusting me —enough to follow the instinct of her desire, and do it anyway…
    “Wh-what if…I do not want to waste any more time?”
    Now I kiss my restraint goodbye.
    With a long, slow, growl, I dip my head back down while inching my fingertips up. There’s a method to the madness—and with her, it feels like madness—of being able to read her better through her lips. Their stillness or hesitation will tell me that despite what her brain dictates about honoring my “risk,” her body is on an entirely separate page.
    So far, we are very much on the same page.
    Holy fuck, what a page.
    As I sweep deeper into the heat of her mouth, my hand explores the silken valley between her thighs. Her skin is soft and shivery beneath my fingertips; her muscles bunch as she undulates in ready response. Pain pricks my scalp as she clings to me tighter, tighter still. “Yes,” I hiss, blowing the sound along her lips. “God, yes. Make me feel it, woman. Every shred of it.”
    She moans and shakes…as I trail my touch higher.
    Every. Fucking. Shred.
    She arches up. Strangled sounds vibrate in her throat. I kiss down that strained column, reveling in her tension. She’s a drawn bow, coiling deeper as I glide a path toward the erotic triangle at her apex. It’s shielded by modest panties. I palm her mound through them, my lips hitching as she gasps.
    “C-Cassian!”
    I growl again. Rub fingers along the fabric’s center panel. “Wet panties, sweet Ella. They feel so fucking good.”
    “Mmmm,” she stutters. “I—I am glad you— ahhhh .” She jerks upward as I circle my fingers. I can feel her clit even through the barrier, trembling…hardening.
    “Tell me they’re white.”
    She shoots a