Page 46 of Poison Touch (Monarch Vipers #1)

The thin band across her hip exposes more skin than her usual boy shorts.

The silky, barely there thong she’s wearing has only been in my fucking dreams until now.

Desperate to feel her, I inch lower until I’m cupping her hot sex.

She moans against my mouth. My dick threatens to rip the seam of my jeans. But tonight isn’t about me.

“I know you want to hate me, but you can’t.

Can you?” I kiss a trail down her neck until I reach the path of her collarbone.

I sink my teeth into the delicate flesh.

She cries from the sensual pleasure of my bite.

Stopping just before breaking the skin, I suck the tender area, soothing it with my tongue.

“I also know you want to fight against me touching you like this, but you want it too bad. Don’t you? ”

Her thighs slightly relax. Working my hand under the edge of her panties, I feel the smooth skin of her slick folds. Fucking hell. Her pussy is searing. I glide one finger down the center to her dripping opening, then back up, trailing her wetness over her swollen clit.

“Fuck.” She moans the word as if it’s a sinful prayer to beg for mercy.

Mercy is the last thing I’ll give tonight.

I’ve waited too fucking long to feel her writhe against me.

Achingly slow, I slip through her sex, back and forth, until she’s moving against my hand.

Unable to wait anymore, I slip a finger inside.

She’s so fucking tight as I push in a second one.

She rises onto her toes. Her nails dig into the base of my neck.

Her other hand is layered over mine at her waist.

Sliding my fingers out, I use her wetness to sweep my thumb over her clit. Her mouth pulls away from mine.

“Look at me,” I demand, craving to see the desire in those blue eyes as I take control of her. With effort, she does. “I want you to see only my face when you come for me.”

Her hips slowly rock to the rhythm of my hand.

Fuck, if my dick isn’t as hard as a rock. I press it against her lower back. “Fuck, Ninja.”

Her thighs tense. She’s getting close. I work my fingers in and out of her as I rub her clit harder.

She begins pulsing against my hand. With the layers of the dress between us, she covers my hand with her own, holding it exactly where she wants it.

Her body has no choice but to heed the orgasm consuming her.

The only thing I wish is that I were fucking inside of her right now, riding out the hard pulsating waves with her, spilling inside her, claiming her.

“Holy fuck,” she pants as the final spasms rake through her.

She collapses forward. I fold my arm around her and remove my fingers from her wetness, holding her as I turn her toward me.

I sit back down on the bench and pull her onto my lap again.

Her legs rest on either side, facing me.

My cock is nestled beneath her. I can feel the heat through my jeans, and it’s pure agony of the best kind.

She’s still catching her breath as I take the fingers I used to get her off and place them in my mouth. She tastes better than I ever could imagine. And fuck me if I don’t think about it a lot. I’ve jerked off to this exact moment more times than I can count. Tonight will be no exception.

“The next time I taste you, it’ll be from the source.” I whisper the promise against the shell of her ear.

She doesn’t say anything in response. I don’t care or expect her to. All I know is that if I can make her come that hard with just my fingers, I can’t wait to see the pleasure spill from her as she writhes against my mouth.

She squirms on my lap, rubbing against my cock. I know she could easily go again and then again, coming for me until she’s too exhausted to move. One day.

I pull out the earbud and place it on her palm. “So, is this what your motorcycle feels like when you straddle it?”

She laughs and closes her hand around it, thoughtfully looks up, contemplating, then says, “Almost. But my seat is softer than your cock under my ass, and I bet you’re not nearly as fast.”

“Want to try me?” She lightly chuckles. I push strands of her hair away from her face. She leans into the light touch. “So I was right,” I say.

“About what?”

“You being fucking drenched.” I wrap her hair around my hand, then pull her mouth to mine. I brush my lips against hers. “Someday soon, I will fuck you in that dress,” I promise again, not wanting her to forget. Her eyes look deep in thought. “What’s wrong?”

“The song you played, Under Your Scars . Why?”

We all have scars. Some are deeper and more jagged than others.

Without her scars of anguish and loss, I wouldn’t be with her right now.

From the moment I saw her, I wanted her.

I claimed her as mine. I don’t know how long I’ll get to keep her, so all I want to do is sink into this moment and live under her scars.

“It fits us,” I say, then bite her lower lip, dragging it between my teeth until it slips free. “It just fits us.”