Page 206 of The Wicked

Her fingers trailed my chest. “I’m curious now; what else do you like about me?”

“You complement my being.”

She nodded, looking impressed with my statement. “What else?” She leaned in to kiss my throat, which bobbed at the contact.

She was lighting a fire I had no desire to quench.

“You’re interesting.”

“What else?” Her lips feathered down to my chest, licking me like there was vanilla coating my skin.

“You’re beautiful, and I love your freckles and hair.”

I felt her smile against my skin before she looked up at me. “What else?” she asked again, and my eyes memorized every speck of color in her irises.

“You,” I voiced, and raised my hand, stroking her hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. “It’s near impossible to pinpoint why I like you, Zahra. I have tried, denied it, and given it an overthought, but I can’t find a specific reason. It’s just you.” My hand trailed down her arm to her forearm and then to the dip in her waist. “All of you.”

Her smile was small and genuine now. “I am wrong, Elio. My whole existence is wrong.”

“My life is wrong; what would one more wrong do to the other boatload of wrongs?”

She tilted her head. “It could tip you over.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

“Or maybe it’s the sex talking;maybeyou’re delusional.”

I wanted to tell her not to downplay what I had just confessed, but I didn’t. I was unknowingly giving her too many weapons. I didn’t want to cross the limit, so I said, “Hm. Maybe.”

She grinned, the topic forgotten.

“Can I test my theory now?”

She answered by moving, and I shifted further down as she got in line with my face; the sight of her glistening slit had me aching to be inside her. I had to remind myself that she wasn’t here to gratify me; she was here so I could do the gratifying.

Her hands latched onto the headboard, and mine went around both her thighs, pulling her down to my face as I licked between her slit, drawing my tongue up until I reached her clit and gave it a good suck.

“Mmmm,” I groaned, loving the way she tasted,like fucking addiction.

I sucked on her, twirling my tongue on her clit, French fucking kissing her flesh like it was the only kissable part of her body.

“Oh fuuuck,” she moaned, grinding on my face as I ate.

My tongue flicked her throbbing bud a few times before I satisfied her with a deep suck that had her breath hitching in gasps as her moans grew louder.

My tongue stroked down her clit before curling and thrustinginside her, fucking her, licking her, sucking her, feeding the Zahra addict inside me.

I loved it.I love this. I want to do this every day. Every hour. Every fucking second.

“Fuck, it feels so good; you’re doing so fucking good, sir.”

The little praise and nickname had my grip tightening on her thighs as I relished the taste and feel of her. I fucked her to unfinished sentences with each stroke of my tongue.

Her moans were unrestrained as her thighs shook, and she was coming, her warm release filling my tongue as I drank and licked her clean of my torment.

I didn’t want to stop, but her sighs sounded tired, and I allowed her the space to get off me.

I lifted myself to one of my elbows, watching her settle beside me, her head to the pillow, hair a mess as she blew out a breath and turned her head to look at me and then my lips.