Page 77

Holy. All. Things. Filthy.
I should not like that so much.
But Gage could say that to me anytime he wants, and I would give it to him.
He reaches down, his hand finding my jaw, guiding it even wider, and when I take him right back, a string of curse words falls from his lips. Words I’ve never had said to me.
He keeps thrusting. Keeps dirty talking. “Mouth so fucking tight, Princess. Take it all for me.”
He’s so crude.
So purely masculine.
And he’s so fucking gone.
His hand tightens in my hair while his other one keeps hold of my jaw. “Where do you want it?” he grits out, close to the edge. “That pretty mouth, or do you want me to cover you in it?”
I don’t answer. Just take him deeper, my lips sealed around him, my eyes locked on his.
That hand on my jaw flexes. “Fuck, your mouth it is.”
His hips jerk, his control fractures, and then he comes, hard and deep, growling, “Fuck,” while he spills down my throat.
I swallow all of it.
And lick my lips after.
While looking at him.
When he finally stills, spent, he doesn’t let go. His hand stays right there at my jaw, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “You’re gonna fucking destroy me.”
While I’m still processing the way he just said that, the way he’s looking at me like I’m the only woman in the world, and the way I just became a woman obsessed with dirty talk, he pulls me up, grasps the back of my neck like it’s his to do what he wants with, and kisses me.
He steals every thought of mine before he’s done with my mouth, and then he says, “That mouth should come with a fucking warning. I’m gonna be hard every time I look at it.”
Somehow, I manage to gather myself. “Good. Because I’m a hot mess whenever I have to deal with your existence. It’s only fair that I fuck with you too.”
He mutters a curse, brushes his lips over mine, and then gets bossy with me. “I hope your carbs have settled, because I’m taking you into my shower and doing every indecent thing you’ll let me.”
Gage wakesme early the next morning. With his hands to my body in a way I’d happily wake every day. Except not so freaking early.
“It’s five a.m.,” I grumble, horrified as I eye the time on his bedside clock. “I need at least one more hour of sleep if I’m going to survive today.”
His mouth closes over my nipple, his finger pushes inside me where I’m already wet for him. And he just carries on like waking early should be part of my morning routine.
He fucked me in his shower last night, and then after giving me a couple of hours to recover—which he spent talking with me like I was the most interesting person he’d ever met—he laid me out on his bed and devoured me all over again.
My muscles need about five years to function properly again.
Gage’s muscles, however? Apparently god-level.
I’m convinced he could go all day and still look like he just stepped out of a fitness ad.
I’m caught between “please don’t stop but also I might die.”
I push gently at his shoulders, trying to slow him down. “I need a minute.”
He pulls back and I head into his bathroom where I lock myself in and take more than a minute. I pee and then freshen up, combing my fingers through my hair, splashing water on my face, and stealing some of Gage’s toothpaste.