Page 58 of Twisted Proposal

How could I resist his touch? How could I deny him? Even when harsh and punishing, he consumed me, the urge to surrender overwhelming.

Something raw and untamed radiated from him, a quiet yet forceful presence that ignited something primitive inside me. It compelled submission to his desires.

But deeper currents swirled beneath.

I didn't merely want to yield or be owned. I craved his singular desire…for me, only me.

His power magnetized me. I needed to possess him as desperately as he needed to possess me. Terrifying.

His hand trailed down my stomach, lips never abandoning mine, even when he brushed over spots so sensitive I jerked at the unexpected ticklish sensations.

His smile curved against my mouth, yet the kiss continued unbroken.

When his fingers slipped between my thighs, I opened instinctively.

A voice screamed in my mind—run, flee, escape.

Surrender meant self-destruction.

Firm yet unhurried, he traced his fingertips over my slit, caressing, injecting liquid heat through my veins, dissolving my resistance. My thighs parted wider. The warning voice still echoed but grew fainter with each heartbeat.

"That's right, princess," he purred. "You respond so beautifully to me. Your mind fights, but your body knows the truth, knows what it craves and understands this is inevitable."

The argument died on my tongue when he devoured me with another kiss, luring me under with his captivating spell.

Artem lingered, ignoring my silent plea for more. He toyed with me, tormented me, dragging me deeper into his trap, and I lacked the will to resist.

I questioned whether I even wanted to anymore.

"Artem," I gasped as I broke the kiss.

His lips blazed a path down my jaw to my throat.

A low purr vibrated from him as he continued his descent from the sensitive hollow of my neck to my breasts.

Another wave of heat scorched my cheeks and surged downward, pooling between my legs.

"Artem, please," I begged, unsure what I pleaded for.

His teeth grazed my nipple, sparking pleasure through me before he shifted his weight and trailed kisses down the plane of my stomach.

Each kiss jolted desire through me as he descended lower.

Would he?—

No one had ever?—

Though not innocent before Artem, I'd heard enough whispered confessions from other women to know most men expected expert blowjobs from their partners but rarely reciprocated, finding it distasteful. Or worse, operated under the delusion that sex existed for male pleasure and female endurance. Many powerful men dismissed female pleasure as irrelevant or impossible, the clit a feminist myth designed to emasculate men.

Judging by Artem's deliberate exploration of my body, the firm press of his palms spreading my thighs, the wicked teasing...Artem savored this and understood feminine pleasure intimately.

"Why are you—" My words evaporated when he seized my thighs, threw them over his shoulders, and buried his face between my legs.

His lips encircled my clit as he sucked and licked, my eyes rolling backward. Stray locks of his hair brushed against sensitive skin as he devoured me like a starving man at a feast.

His fingers dug into my thighs, immobilizing me, but the sharp pain only heightened the pleasure.

"Artem, please," I panted.