Free Vipers Run by Stephanie Tyler Page B

second. And he ground out a groan.
    â€œYou’re in so much goddamned trouble, Calla.”
    â€œGood,” I told him. “Show me.”
    He laughed, a dark, rich sound that bit me with a hard shiver. I could lie and say it was the adrenaline of the ride, the promise of almost being caught . . . the fact that we’d made it safe and sound was what made me want to rip his clothes off. But I’d wanted to do it from the first moment I’d heard his voice.
    â€œYou. Naked. You’ve already seen me.”
    â€œI’ve seen your dick,” I corrected.
    He pulled down his fly and put my hand on his cock. “I’ve been hard for you since I walked in. The bike ride made it worse.”
    I don’t think he expected me to stroke him, but I did. He stilled for a second, especially when I brought my thumb up to play with the piercing. And then he smiled and it told me that I was in trouble. The good kind. “Maybe you should get naked first.”
    He obviously had no problem with that. He pushed his jeans down and pulled his shirt off. “Gotta untie my boots,” he said.
    Reluctantly, I released him. He had the boots and jeans off and he was carrying me over to the couch, practically over his shoulder. He pulled open the couch bed with one hand and put me down.
    He hovered over me, completely naked. “Your turn.”
    He wasn’t right on me, wasn’t holding me down, and he wasn’t trying to strip me. He was watching me with a mixture of lust and concern, and while my heart tugged for what he was doing, I planned on wiping the concern right off.
    I sat up slightly and pulled my tank top off. Unhooked my bra as he watched, and made short work of my own jeans. For a long moment, he just stared at me, then murmured “Beautiful”and “Mine” before kissing my belly. His hands covered my breasts, my nipples tender to his rough touch. I arched beneath them, pushing them against him. I was so wet, my legs spread, hooked around one of his thighs as his cock drove into my belly.
    While at Tenn’s, I couldn’t fantasize about him. I was ruthless about cutting off my needs because I was certain that would curse us. Now, coming off my fast, I was starving, my core aching for him.
    The truth was, I hadn’t enjoyed sex before this. I pretended to, made myself have and take all the power because I thought it would soothe me. It just allowed me to stay in control.
    There was no control when I was with Cage—and no pretending either. He’d never allow it.
    But with him, I didn’t have to pretend anything. Not with his hands on me, leaving trails that were a combination of fire and ice—intoxicating, exhilarating . . . liberating.
    I’d come for him if he touched the right spot. Or anywhere close to it. And when his mouth closed on my nipple, my entire body writhed and I climaxed with a surprised, low moan.
    He simply sucked harder, rubbing my sex with his thigh. And then he prepared to take me over the edge again.
    â€œHave to taste you,” he told me, moving down between my legs, lifting my legs over his shoulders. I was completely open to him, and he licked along the seam of my sex, his tongue driving inside me. He held my thighs open as I threaded my fingers through his hair to keep him close.
    â€œCage . . . please,” I whispered urgently, the need for release clawing through me like a fever. The second orgasm tore through me faster than I’d ever thought possible. But Cage didn’t stop, and even when I thought I couldn’t come again, I did.
    He watched my face the whole time. There was nothing sexier than that, knowing I was under his gaze, unable to escape his pleasure assault in so many ways.
    I’d dreamed about this, but my dreams were always a mix of heavy sadness at knowing what I couldn’t have. This was pure, unmitigated pleasure, and I reveled in it. I swore I still