Page 45

His lips never leave my skin, nipping and sucking marks on my throat, my collarbone, the tops of my breasts. Each bite harder than the last.

“Time for a snack,” he chuckles between his ragged breaths.

Auguste’s eyes are firmly on mine as he lowers down my body. Licking and sucking down to my trembling chest.

His teeth graze my nipple before he takes it into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make me cry out. My back arches off the table, pressing myself deeper into his hungry mouth while his tongue flicks and teases the sensitive peak.

"You taste so fucking sweet," he hums against my skin, moving to lavish the same attention on my other breast.

His hands pin my wrists above my head, holding me captive as he works his way down my body. Each kiss, each bite claiming every inch of my skin. Mapping me, memorizing me.

"Auguste," I gasp when his teeth sink into the soft flesh just below my ribs, my fingers pushing into his coarse curls.

His response is a gravelly groan against my skin. "Say it again. My name from that pretty fucking mouth."

"Auguste," I repeat, breathier this time as his hands slide up my thighs, thumbs pressing into the bruises he left earlier, rekindling their ache.

He pulls back to look at me sprawled across his dining table, his expression amazed and… starved. "Spread your legs wider."

I obey without hesitation, my thighs trembling as I expose myself to him.

"I'm going to ruin you," he murmurs against my skin, breath hot as fire.

His hands slide down my sides, fingers hooking into the waistband of my thong. With one swift motion, he tears the delicate lace apart, the sound of ripping fabric sending a jolt through my body.

"Look at you. Look… at… you," he breathes, spreading me open with his thumbs. "Soaked for me."

I can't help the whimper that escapes me as he lowers his head, his hot breath teasing my aching center. My hips lift involuntarily, seeking his mouth.

"Desperate little thing," he taunts, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. "Tell me what you want."

"Your mouth." My fingers clutch the edge of the table. " Please , I need your mouth on me. "

Auguste's eyes lock with mine, loaded with promise. "Since you asked so nicely."

His tongue flattens against me in one long, slow lick that has me arching off the table. The sensation is overwhelming after being wound up so tight.

Slick and relentless, his tongue flicks over my clit with an approving groan.

“Oh, God…” A cry escapes my lips, raw and involuntary. My body reacts instinctively, attempting to twist away from the overwhelming sensation, but his strong arms hold me firmly in place, anchoring me to the moment.

“You wanted my mouth, Snow,” Auguste says, blowing across my drenched pussy. “You fucking got it.”

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let up. He fucks me with his tongue until I’m shaking, writhing up into his face, needing more. Needing him inside me.

“Please… please , Auguste… fuck me. I need you inside me,” I pant out each word, stuttering when his thumb rubs my clenching pussy the same torturous way that his tongue circles my clit.

Thick and demanding, his fingers press inside me, stretching me open as he continues his assault on my clit.

"Like this?" he gravels against my skin. "Is this what you need?"

"More," I gasp, my hips bucking against his hand. "I need more… I need you."

Auguste curls his fingers inside me, finding that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. My back arches off the table as he presses harder, his tongue never stopping its relentless rhythm against my clit.

"You're gonna come for me first," he commands, voice rough with desire. "I’m going to drink you up and then I'll give you what you want."

I'm so close, teetering on the edge, my body coiled tight like a spring. When he sucks my clit between his lips and adds a third finger, stretching me further, I shatter.

The orgasm rips through me. The pressure gushing out of me, soaking his face, my thighs, the table with every purposeful curl of his fingers.

“Fuck. Fuck! ” My scream echoes back at me from a distance as I collapse back on the table and Auguste sucks and laps, drinking me down like he wanted. Like he promised.

“Fuck yeah!” He slaps my thigh, groaning like it’s his own release. “We’re doing that again. And again. And fucking again. ”

My eyes blink open. The dim light stinging my burning eyes.

Auguste braces over me on one hand. The other grips the back of my knee and tugs me to the edge of the glass table. With my thigh hitched on his hip, I can feel his hard cock pressed to my sensitive flesh.

“Look at the mess you made, Snow,” he pants, wiping his face with his other hand. “You’re a fucking dream. My perfect little slut… and I can’t get enough of you. How hard you make me. How fucking deep you make me ache for you.”

With a flex of his hips, he teases my slit. Like this, his cock feels different. Like it might be too big and too hard. And still, I ache for it.

"Please," I whimper, clawing at his shoulders. "I need you inside me."

Auguste nods. His nose is flaring with the same desperation hammering through my bloodstream.

"Condom," he grunts, his jaw clenched tight as he pulls back slightly, searching the pockets of his slacks, banded around his thick thighs.

I grab his wrist, keeping him close when he glances in the direction of the bedrooms. I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve already had him in my mouth, swallowed his cum…

"I'm on the pill. I'm clean, I?—"

"Court…" Auguste’s forehead drops to mine, his breath hot against my lips. "I'm clean too."

“I trust you.” The expression on his face shifts to something different. Something deep. Emotion swirls in his eyes, something the perfectly chiselled lines. "So please...”

“Please…”

“I want to feel you."

His eyes search mine, something raw and vulnerable flashing behind the hunger and lust.

Before I can breathe, he’s inside me, stretching me open in one hard thrust that whooshes the air right out of my lungs with a loud cry.

“God, you feel good,” he marvels. “So fucking tight. Always so wet for me.”

“Jesus… oh fuuuuck… you’re so… oh God… so… big…” Bigger than I realized. “You need to move. Please…”

"Tell me you're mine." It’s an order I can’t refuse him. Not when he’s so deep inside me the only sensation I have is him. So deep it hurts. So deep I’ll miss him when he’s gone.

"I'm yours," I gasp .

"For how long?" His voice is rough, demanding as he edges out and then inches in just slightly, enough to make me arch toward him.

"Until I leave," I whisper, honesty burning in my throat. "Every second until then."

His mouth comes down on mine. Tongue spearing past my lips, eating up all my moans when his hips snap forward, driving into me with a force that rattles the glass table beneath us. His fingers dig into my thigh, hiking it higher against his side as he sets a punishing rhythm that steals my breath.

"Every. Fucking. Second," he enunciates against my mouth, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. "Mine to mark. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin."

My nails rake down his back, desperate for purchase as he pounds into me. The stretch and burn of him inside me borders on too much, yet somehow not enough. I want more. I want all of him. Want to be consumed by him.

"Yes," I gasp, my head falling back as he hits a spot that makes my vision blur. "Yours, all yours."

His mouth latches onto my exposed throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark as his pace quickens. The table creaks beneath us, the sound of skin against skin filling the room as he drives deeper, harder.

"Tell me you're gonna think of me," he demands, his voice strained with effort. "Tell me you'll remember how I feel inside you."

"I will," I choke, overwhelmed by sensation. "I'll never forget… oh God !"

He shifts his angle, lifting me slightly off the table, and suddenly he's hitting something that makes my entire body convulse. Each thrust sends shockwaves through me, building toward something bigger than before.

"That's it," Auguste coaxes, watching my face contort with pleasure. "Give it to me again. Let me feel you come on my cock."

His thumb finds my clit, rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation is too much.

I'm falling, breaking apart, clenching around him as I crest again, clawing at his arms, unraveling under his weight and praise.

“That’s it, beautiful,” he groans, thrusting harder. “Be my good girl. Come for me again. All over my cock, Snow.”

I do.

I fall apart, soaking us both as I scream his name, legs trembling, muscles locking around him like I’ll die if he lets me go .

“Fuck… yes,” he barks down at where my pussy is clenching around his cock.

His hands wrap around my throat, holding me in place as he pistons deeper and harder.

“You take me so good… so fucking good… I’m going to fill you up, Court. To the fucking— fuuuuuuuck !”

His ragged voice echoes around us with the force of his release. Hot and deep as he spills into me, still grinding, still rocking as we both shudder through the high.

Auguste is so beautiful. So perfectly savage and untethered as he collapses into me and his mouth latches onto my throat again like he really can’t get enough of me.

“Good girl,” he whispers, soothing the burn of his bite with a kiss.

And I melt some more.

Because I’m his. Every dirty, needy, ruined part of me.

I’m shaking. Chest heaving. Limbs limp. The room’s gone fuzzy at the edges, like I’m looking through a haze of heat. My legs are still parted, twitching from the aftershocks as Auguste keeps kissing the side of my throat.

Not like before. Not claiming.

Softer. Like he’s rewarding me.

Lips brushing up the underside of my jaw, he murmurs, “You did so fucking good for me, Princess.”

His breath is still ragged, but his hands are gentle now.

One slides beneath my back, the other under my knees.

He lifts me like I weigh nothing at all and I bury my face in his neck, still coming down from the high he fucked me into.

I can feel his heart hammering under his skin.

Wild and steady. An accurate semblance of the man holding me.

“We ruined the table,” I whisper, dazed.

Auguste chuffs a breathless laugh. “I don’t give a fuck about the table.”

He takes me into the bathroom and sits me on the vanity carefully, like I’m made of glass before he runs the bath.

Auguste comes back to me. His hand trails down my thigh, thumb swirling over his marks as he brings my feet to his chest and one-by-one removes my heels.

The easy gentility he lavishes me with hits me like a sucker punch after the animalistic intensity of his fucking.

Auguste is a living, breathing contradiction, and I’m drowning in every feeling I know I shouldn’t allow myself to have for him .

His thumbs rub the arch of my feet before they trace up the inside of my legs back to my thighs.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Leaning in, Auguste presses a chaste, gentle kiss to my lips as I tell him, “Good.”

“I mean it, Court,” he says, voice low… reverent. “I’m not done. Not even close.”

And God help me, neither am I.