Free Grave Secret by Sierra Dean Page B

tongue thick. I couldn’t have made fun of him if I wanted to. I didn’t want to. The only desire left in me was to have him inside me in every way imaginable, as fast as possible.
    “Get up,” he said.
    I did without hesitation. I thought he might take me on the coffee table, it felt sturdy enough, but he had a different idea in mind. Once I was standing, he lifted me right off the floor and slung me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Instead of being surprised—after all, he’d done this to me before—I took advantage of my position by slipping my hands into his underwear and giving his ass a squeeze while running my tongue along the beautiful toned V on his lower back above the waistband of his boxers. Before my tongue was allowed to explore anything farther south I was in the air and tumbling backwards. I landed on a soft down duvet and he was on top of me, giving me no time to have a look around his dark bedroom.
    His natural scent was mingled with something headier now, a musk I recognized as desire. Instead of giving any more instructions or speaking at all, he removed my panties without hesitation and undid my bra with one looped finger, tossing both aside in turn. When he knelt over me, I slid his own underwear off, leaving him bare and hard in front of me.
    My mouth wasn’t dry anymore.
    Closing my lips over the head of his cock, I lowered my head with aching slowness, savoring every moment. I’d never thought I’d be able to taste him again, and I wanted to remember every second of it. My tongue caressed each curve and hollow, circling his head as I withdrew, holding suction until the end.
    “Jesus,” he whispered. “I thought you didn’t want to kill me.”
    I cast my eyes upwards, watching him as I lowered my head again. This time he seized my hair roughly and pulled my mouth out of reach. He couldn’t stop my hands though, and one palm cupped his balls while the other wrapped around his rigid shaft, which was still damp from my saliva. His mouth formed a thin line.
    “You’re asking for trouble,” he warned.
    “Then stop me,” I replied, squeezing his balls with gentle pressure.
    “Turn over.” He growled the words and flipped me onto my hands and knees before I had time to comply with his instructions on my own. He placed a palm between my shoulders and gave a commanding push. I put my arms under the pillows and dropped so my upper body was pressed flush against the comforter.
    My hair clung to my face from the sweat beading on my skin, so I couldn’t see him, just felt his hands grasp my hips and tug them higher until my ass was snug against his pelvis, the hard length of him nestled between my cheeks. I let out a shaky breath as he traced a path down my back and then up to my neck again. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and twisted it around his wrist, jerking my head up so I was looking over my shoulder at him.
    With his other hand he guided himself to my opening, and the head of his cock slipped in easily. It had been long enough without him inside me that the size of him felt surprising. Even as wet as I was I gasped when he thrust inside me all the way on the first stroke. One hand held my head in place, and he watched me carefully as he drove into me again, waiting for me to tell him to stop or give him any instruction whatsoever.
    A shudder of pleasure vibrated through me, making me tighten around him, and his eyes closed reflexively. I was usually the one taking charge in bed, but tonight he was claiming me, and I wanted to let him. He released my hair, but I kept watching him. Grabbing my hips with both hands now, he pounded into me like he was taking my challenge seriously. Whatever part of me had been marked by Lucas, Desmond was trying to fuck it out of me.
    As his thrusts grew fast and frenzied, he withdrew suddenly, causing me to cry out from the unexpected emptiness, pulling me back from an edge I’d been about to plummet over. He turned me over so I was looking up