Page 72 of Executing Malice

His tongue sweeps up my core, momentarily scattering my thoughts.

“You misbehaved.”

He pushes past the ring of my opening. I have to bite my lip to stifle my moan.

“You ... you started it,” I breathe, lashes falling closed.

He teases the piercing with just the tip before running a figure eight around my clit.

“You touched another man.”

The heat in his growl, the possessive snarl surges through me with a powerful thrum that has my arms swinging up over my head to settle flat against the bottom half of the sofa. I use it as leverage to push myself down to him.

“You touched another woman,” I bite back. “You let her touch you.”

His low, gravely groan sends my head back on the pillow. “I didn’t let her do anything. I told her I was taken. She refused to listen.”

I sob with the first breach of his fingers filling me. My back arches off the blankets.

“Bitch,” I hiss through my teeth. “I should have hit her harder.”

The tongue lapping at my clit stops. My chin tips down to where I can just barely make out the glint of his eyes.

“You hit her?”

Heat floods my cheeks even as I try to read his voice. It’s impossible to gauge his expression, but the tone suggests nothing and everything.

“Maybe,” I whisper, uncertain.

His fingers slip free and he begins to pull back.

Panic has me scrambling, trying to push up right, but he’s shoving me down, pinning me with the full weight of his body. His mouth, wet with saliva and my juices slams down over mine in a fierce battle of hunger.

“You’re mine,” he growls in between savage attacks of tongue and teeth. “Only fucking mine. You ever let another man touch you again, I won’t just break his fucking arm.”

I still. My head jerks back and I try to see into his face.

“Jasper?”

Punishing teeth sink into my bottom lip hard enough that I taste blood.

“The piece of shit you let put his hands on you.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” I pant in between assaults. “I was the one who—”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t kill him.” His fingers sink into my hair, and my head is wrenched back exposing my throat. “That’s why he got to keep his fucking hands.” Something cold and fine kisses my jugular. “You made me hurt him.”

I can’t move. Can barely think as the steel edge of his blade lightly skims my pulse.

“Did you think I would roll over and let him have you? Let him fuck you? Did you want him to fuck you, Leila? Did you want his cock?”

Despite the risk of getting sliced open, I shake my head. “Did you want to fuck her?”

He snorts into my jawline. “No one else gets me hard. My dick only responds to you.” The bulge in question pushes into mycore and I meet the grind with one of my own. His deep, shaky inhale burns the side of my face. “Only want you.”

My arms circle his shoulders. My fingers glide along the flexing muscles across his shoulders. I’m trying really hard not to let my excitement get the better of me. I’m trying to be rational and remember he could still be fucking with me, but every speckle of my soul refuses to believe it. Refuses to accept that this isn’t real when everything about it feels ... right.

“You tattooed me.” I meant to be stern, but I’m having a hard time wading through the fluffy cloud of bliss surrounding me.