Page 58 of Just a Little Wicked (Wicked Sisters #2)

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not perfect. I have scars from machinery gone wrong, and a patch of eczema behind my knee, and—” her words were cut off with a sharp gasp as he bent forward and nuzzled her breast, taking one tip into his mouth and sucking.

“Let me amend,” he growled, reaching for her other breast and rolling the nipple between his fingers while her hips writhed beneath him. “You’re perfect for me .”

She didn’t talk again after that. All he heard from her were breathy moans and gasps as he licked, sucked, and fondled her breasts.

When he was certain she was about to scream with the frustration of wanting more, he rubbed his jaw over her stomach and kissed down her side, nipping her skin just hard enough that her fingers tightened in his hair.

His girl liked it a little bit rough.

He backed out from between her thighs, kneeled at the end of the bed, and cupped his hands under her knees to yank her to the edge.

He took his time then, kissing from the arch of her foot all the way up her leg, ghosting his lips over the damp fabric of her underwear, and then back down the other leg.

“And they call me wicked,” she complained, throwing her hand over her eyes.

He licked the inside of her thigh, and then tugged aside the thin strip of fabric between her legs. At the sight of her glistening arousal, he said in a gravelly voice that even he barely recognized, “Wicked and good are just two sides of the same coin. Now, be good and come for me.”

“Erikson, I ca?—”

He pressed two thick fingers inside of her, cutting off her protest. She was so aroused that she was easy to penetrate, and she took him with a buck of her hips that told him it was exactly what she needed.

He went to work then, curling his fingers and stroking the flat of his tongue over her clit until she orgasmed so fiercely around him that his fingers almost hurt.

When her muscles went lax, they both looked around the room as if they expected to see flames licking at the walls. Everything was silent and still.

“You okay?” he demanded sharply.

“Yes.”

“Good, because I’m not done.” He pressed flat on her stomach, forcing her back to the mattress, and licked her in one long stroke.

She was so worked up that he was able to fit a third finger inside her, and whenever his mouth left her clitoris to lick elsewhere, he replaced it with his thumb.

He kept steady pressure on her lower belly with his free hand and devoured her, stroking and licking and pushing her closer and closer to the edge until he sensed she was almost there, and then he paused.

He kissed her thighs as he let her come down a little bit, then he started the cycle all over.

He edged her until her eyes were black and fog was curling off her skin, her grip on his hair almost painful.

“Come for me,” he ordered, and wiggled the flat of his tongue over her clitoris.

She screamed, her back arching off the bed, and the sole framed photograph in the room exploded.

“Shit!” Erikson threw himself over her, but only a few bits of glass drifted over him.

He looked down at her, her eyes dazed with lust, and they burst into laughter.

Winter knew she should care about the glass sprinkled on her carpet, but she really couldn’t bring herself to do it.

As long as nothing was on fire, she could deal with a little bit of broken glass from time to time.

Erikson Grimm had just given her two earth-shattering orgasms back-to-back, and she could barely remember her name, much less where the vacuum was located.

Never, in her entire life, had her body been so thoroughly and expertly played—not even by herself.

It was like he knew exactly how to pull her taut, and then he held her there, where she hummed with excruciating anticipation, until he was good and ready to push her over.

Maybe he was so incredible at giving pleasure simply because he was a generous lover.

Or maybe it was because he had some echoing imprint of carnal knowledge about her from their past lives, some advantage that his hindbrain recalled when he was pleasuring her.

If that was the case, then it would mean she had some knowledge about him, too.

“Condom?” he asked, kissing his way back up her body.

“I get the birth control shot,” she said, “but I always use condoms.”

He nodded and started to lean over the side of the mattress for the pants and boxers he’d removed a moment ago, when she stopped him. “What about you?”

“Same, and I’m tested regularly.”

“Would . . . would you want to do it without?”

He stroked her thigh as he studied her. “Absolutely, but not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

She grinned and tugged him back up to her. “Do you think I would do anything that makes me uncomfortable just to please you?”

“My warrior.” He kissed her deeply. “Sometimes I forget how fierce you are.”

She flexed her nails into his glorious ass and said, “Don’t make me remind you.”

He didn’t retaliate with his own brand of roughness, instead choosing to kiss her again, his tongue claiming her. She had no doubt that’s exactly what it was—a claiming—as the head of his cock nudged her opening.

“Wait!”

He paused instantly, his muscles rippling with tension. “Second thoughts?”

“No. I need to get another picture frame.”

He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “We can go shopping later.”

She almost laughed. “No, I mean, I don’t want to shatter my window. I’d rather break another picture. Holly has so many framed photos of apples in her room that she’ll never miss one.”

Understanding dawned, and a smirk flashed across his lips as he reached for his boxers. “Stay there,” he ordered. “Play with yourself.”

Then he was out the door, and a moment later she heard the squeak of door hinges. He was gone only a minute, and she took the opportunity to stroke her over-sensitive skin in wonder that they could make each other feel this good.

When he returned with the picture frame to prop on the opposite wall, she was ready for him. All it took was one look at her spread, naked body, and his semi turned into a full erection. He was back on her in a moment, kissing and working her up until he once again brought himself to her entrance.

“You’re mine,” he said, inserting a few thick inches.

“And I’m yours.” Even though she was more than ready for him, Winter still shifted on the bed as if the movement would help her find the space to fit him.

She was significantly smaller than he was, and if she didn’t have a firm understanding of human anatomy, she’d have been convinced it couldn’t work.

Then he was fully inside her, and Winter was sweating with the intense feeling of fullness.

In the truck she’d been able to control the penetration, and she was realizing now how different the angle was.

In this position she was consumed by him: his skin, already damp with sweat, sliding over hers; his roving lips; his adoring eyes; his hips grinding her into the mattress in a way that gave her chills.

“Look at me.”

She did, and what she saw in his gaze wasn’t “falling in love.” It was love, and something in her soul that had been cracked after all these lifetimes, finally, finally healed.

He did exactly what he promised, making love to her in the shadows with the light and music from the party filtering in through the closed window, until they were both sweating and trembling and seconds away from tipping into an abyss she wasn’t sure they’d ever resurface from.

Winter gritted her teeth and flexed her inner muscles while squeezing his ass, making Erikson’s jaw pop.

“How do you do everything just right?” he asked in wonder, pressing a kiss to her temple.

It seemed she had soul-memories of him too. “The same way you do.”

“Win?” His thumb dragged down her jaw, and she stared into his deep blue eyes. “Be mine in this lifetime and the next.”

She lifted up and kissed him softly. “I already am.”