Page 169 of Illicit Games

His grip sliding to my ass, he yanks me down and crushes his mouth against mine. My moan is instant, full of desperation and satisfaction. Twisting my hand in his shirt and grabbing the back of his neck with the other, I press even closer and let his tongue slip inside and kiss him deeply.

Contentment flares and flutters behind my ribs as I become drunk on his taste. The stroke of his wet tongue. Thesoft sucks and bites of his lips. The stubble on his chiseled jaw teasing my senses. The reverence in his passionate kiss.

It’s nothing short of him bringing me back to life.

Reigniting my heart and soul with hope.

Lightning up all the dead nerve endings inside me.

As the kiss grows wild and not nearly enough against the insurmountable need rising inside us, I drag my hands lower and slip under the hem of his shirt. My fingers graze his lower abs, making them tighten and flex.

Breaking apart for a second, he grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it off in one swift move. My name on his pecs comes into view, skyrocketing my heartbeat.

Bending my head, I run my tongue over the letters and kiss each one.

Above me, Kian groans.

Threading his fingers through my hair, he tugs my head up and captures my swollen lips with his hungry mouth. Opening wide, he tangles his tongue with mine and sucks hard. The suction goes straight to my clit.

Driving me senseless with his harsh kiss, his hands grasp the hem of my T-shirt and drag it upward and off my body after ripping his lips away.

Turning us sideways, we tumble onto the couch.

He rises to loom over my trembling body in the semidarkness. It’s not my eyes he’s staring at, but the bullet wound scar on my chest. Pain and guilt flicker in his pupils. His jaw tightens as he caresses it with the tip of his finger.

I close my hand around his wrist, drawing his attention to my face. “It no longer hurts, Kian. Nor does it make me sad. When I look at it in the mirror, all I see is the reason you’re alive and with me. What happened to us is unfair and tragic, but it wasn’t our fault. So, please, stop feeling guilty. It’s what's hurting me.”

“I don’t want you hurting,” he whispers.

“Then say you understand it isn’t your fault.”

His chest shakes as he takes a deep breath before saying, “It’s not my fault.”

“And you’ll stop feeling guilty.”

“I will try.”

“Good. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Staring into his eyes, I slowly drag his hand down my stomach and push it under the waistband of my shorts and panties. Spreading my thighs, I place his palm against my pulsing sex and draw mine out. “Touch me, Kian. Fuckyourpussy, sir.”

His fingers part my folds as his gaze becomes hooded and possessive.

Rubbing and stroking my slit, he swirls and spreads my wetness around. Circling my entrance and teasing it with a fingertip, he coaxes more arousal. It’s like no time has passed between my body and his, as it obeys and sizzles under his dominance.

Toying with my entrance again and again, he thrusts two fingers inside without any warning and hooks them to rub on my walls.

I moan, coming undone from a simple touch.

“Louder, Iris.” A twist of his wrist and he hits my G-spot, stroking over it hard and fast. “Cry and moan for me louder. Let me hear those sweet noises.”

“Mhmm… yes.”

His thumb joins in the delicious torment by flicking my clit, while his fingers ruthlessly fuck my pussy. The familiar stretch mind-blowing in my unused hole. I missed his roughness and deviant aggression.

“Oh… Oh god!” I cry out when he forces a third finger inside.