Page 81 of Desperate Games

God help me, I am his prey.

The little pink toy slips out of my fingers with a startled gasp when he bats it away, and then his mouth is on me.

Hot. Hungry. Relentless.

My first orgasm hits hard and fast, but I know Remy, and one is not his number.

My voice breaks on his name, and I don’t even recognize the desperate, needy sound I make.

His tongue licks into me like he owns me.

Like this body was carved for him and him alone. And the worst part? Maybe it was.

Because nothing has ever felt this good.

Not a single thing.

Not even close.

His big hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider, pinning me down when I try to twist away—not because I want to escape, but because the pressure is too much.

The intensity too sharp.

But he growls against my pussy, and the vibration rockets through me.

“Don’t run, Baby. You give me this. You take this.”

I sob his name again. My hips buck against his face. Shame and lust coil together until I can’t tell one from the other.

Every filthy, forbidden thing he’s whispered in the dark comes rushing back—breeding, filling, making me his, marking me.

And the insane, terrifying truth?

I want it.

I want him.

I want every dark, dangerous promise he’s made.

Heat licks up my spine, coiling, building, and I know I’m close—so close I can’t breathe.

“Remy, I—oh God—I’m gonna?—”

His eyes flash up at me, emerald fire locking me in place. His lips curl against my flesh, wet and glistening with me.

“That’s right, Andy. Give it to me. Come on my mouth. Show me who owns this sweet pussy.”

That breaks me.

Shatters me.

I come undone with a cry, back arching, thighs shaking, every nerve ending sparking like fireworks as my orgasm rips through me.

“That’s two,” he growls.

And Remy doesn’t let up.

He drinks it in. Keeps licking, sucking, groaning like my pleasure is his lifeblood.