Page 111 of If You Claim Me

“I want to play a game with you.”

My apprehension must be written all over my face.

“If you don’t like it, we’ll stop. But I think you might not be opposed.” Another soft kiss. “Have I taken good care of you so far?”

I swallow down the anxiety. “Yes.”

“Do you trust that I always want to make you happy?”

I soften at the hope and fear swimming behind his eyes. “Yes, Connor, I trust you.” I close my eyes.

The weight of his body leaves me.

I crack a lid. “What are you doing?”

“Eyes closed.” When I comply, he leans over me and presses his velvet lips to each lid. “I’m going to worship every inch of you, like a good, devoted husband.”

His hair tickles my neck as he kisses the hollow of my throat.

The sound of our breathing fills the room, and the bed dips just before his hair brushes my collarbones. Anticipation makes my heart race as he leaves several open-mouthed kisses on the swell of my breasts, the deep rumble from his chest heating me from the inside.

His breath tickles my skin. “Would you like to keep playing?”

“Yes, please.”

His fingers find mine, and he brings them to his cheek. “Can I trust you to keep your eyes closed?”

“Yes, you can trust me.”

“Such a sweet menace.” He kisses my fingertips and the warmth soaks into my skin, rushing through my veins.

Something tickles my stomach—not his fingers, or his hair or his mouth. I gasp and shiver. “What is that?”

“Tell me how it feels.” Another soft sweep across my belly, followed by the scrape of his teeth on the edge of my jaw.

I moan and sigh, already in love with the discordant sensations. “It’s a…feather?”

“That’s right, darling.” His lips close around a nipple, sucking softly as that feather brushes between my thighs. He follows with a nip of teeth, a gentle swipe of tongue, and a rough suck.

Every time I think he plans to kiss or touch me where I want it most, he moves away. His mouth dips lower, past my navel. Warm, wet kisses anoint my overheated skin, my soft sighs and his groans filling the space around us.

All I am is want. I’m drenched in desire as sensation spirals. I grip the sheets, toes curling as he circles and circles, closing in.

“Connor, please…” I whimper.

“Do you want the game to end?” His lips brush the juncture of my thigh with every word.

“You’re pure evil.” I groan, hips rolling against nothing.

“The devil himself,” he agrees.

He pushes my legs wide, and then his hot mouth is on me, tongue sliding over sensitive skin, the sharp bite of teeth against my inner thigh. The featherlight brush of his hair across my stomach nearly undoes me.

I’m shaking with need. Desperate for release.

And then his tongue glides through my slit, and the nip ofteeth sends a shockwave through me. Connor’s deep groan vibrates against me, followed by deliciously rough suction. I bow up off the bed, toes curled, sheets fisted in my hands.

His mouth leaves me for one painful, interminable moment. “Open your eyes and look at me when I’m feasting on your perfect cunt, darling,” he demands.