Page 27 of Whips and Chains (Saint View Murder Squad #2)

I carried her to the bathroom vanity and settled her ass on the edge of it, her thick thighs spread out around me, banded around my waist like they had been made exactly for that purpose.

I couldn’t remember ever feeling like a woman’s body was made for mine. But every inch of Violet felt perfectly carved to fit the size of me.

I got straight back down on my knees and buried my face between her thighs.

Her pussy was the sweetest thing I’d ever had my tongue on. Her juices wept from her entrance, silky and smooth, showing me how turned on she already was. And I’d barely even started with her.

I licked her from entrance up to her clit and then set up camp there, worshipping that bud like it was a new god. Her pussy deserved a fucking cult of followers. I’d be the damn head of it for as long as she would let me.

She leaned back on the mirrored bathroom cabinet above the sink, and I drew her legs up so her feet rested on my shoulders, opening her up so I had full access to every inch of her slit and the tight little hole beneath.

She was all clean and delicious-smelling, and I just wanted to make her come for hours on end without sharing her with another soul.

I dragged my tongue all over her, kissing and nipping her inner thighs, loving the way they shook around my head whenever I got closer to her opening. I thrust first my tongue, and then my fingers into her channel, the fluttering beginnings of an orgasm sending straight-up pride through my system.

She liked this. Everything I was doing was what she needed. Her moans only confirmed it. She kept them quiet, bringing her arms up over her head to hang on to the top of the cabinet, and twisting her head so her mouth was muffled by her arm.

I fucked her with my tongue, my fingers joining in, stretching her wide so she could take two, then three.

I pulled back to stare at her, all pussy and tits and belly, head thrown back in pleasure and totally open to me, trusting me to keep her safe.

It was the sexiest gift she could have given me. I didn’t need the lingerie she’d worn to the club that night. I didn’t need her dancing for me or putting on a show. Her trusting me with her body was the hottest thing she could have done.

“Need you to come for me, baby,” I mumbled against her belly, kissing all over it, then lower across her mound while I thrust into her with my fingers. “Need to feel that pussy squeeze.”

She reached for me, and I let her because she was so hot and wet, I could tell she needed more.

I let her unzip my jeans and drag my underwear down just enough to free my cock.

And then we were both battling to get me inside her, her making desperate moans of need and telling me to hurry, while I lined up at her entrance and got my cock wet in the arousal just pooling there, waiting for me.

The plunge inside her was desperate and fast, but so fucking satisfying. I bottomed out inside her, and we both paused there, her gasping at the intrusion, me biting down on my lip to stop myself from shouting her name and waking the entire house up.

To distract myself from the fact her pussy was so damn perfect, and I was so hot for her I was ready to come after one stroke, I pushed my clothes off my bottom half, stepping out of my jeans and underwear and leaving them in a puddle on the floor.

She had the same idea about getting me just as naked as she was.

She yanked desperately at my shirt, unbuttoning it with greedy, fast fingers, and delivering kisses to my chest with every inch she exposed.

She reached the bottom, undoing the last button, and shoved my shirt off my shoulders.

But her kisses didn’t stop. She kissed all over my neck and shoulders and pecs, every touch of her lips sending an explosion of pleasure and sensation through my entire body.

A gasp filled the tiny, quiet room.

I froze, my cock buried deep inside her, worry filling me that I’d somehow hurt her. My eyes flew open. “What? Are you okay?”

She stared at my chest.

Or more accurately, the Violet I’d tattooed over my heart.

Ah shit. I’d had it covered up when she’d last seen me naked but I’d ripped the bandage off it this morning. It had gotten loose and tattered and really didn’t serve a purpose any more since the tattoo was completely healed anyway.

A part of me knew I’d been keeping it on because I hadn’t been ready to show her.

But then last night, everything had changed.

Now all I wanted was for her to know exactly how I felt about her.

Because last night, I’d very nearly lost the chance to. If she’d died in that warehouse, she would have died never knowing how much she owned my fucking heart. How she was all I’d thought about since the very first letter.

She would have never known how damn much I loved her.

She stared at me. “You…you tattooed my name?”

I nodded.

She breathed out a slow breath, fingers trailing so lightly over my skin, if I hadn’t been watching I would have thought I’d imagined it.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“That night you met me up on the bluffs.”

She screwed her head up. “The night you rejected me?”

I grabbed her chin, holding it tighter than I would have normally, but she needed to hear the words I was about to say.

I needed to know she heard them.

“I never rejected you, Violet. I only rejected the version of myself I knew wasn’t good enough for you. I was stupid and selfish, I know that. But I loved you then, just like I love you now. And that tattoo reminds me every day.”

She couldn’t stop staring at it, her gaze flickering over every curve and twist of the stem, and the shading I’d attempted on the petals.

Awkward heat rose up the back of my neck, knowing she was seeing the imperfect lines I’d drawn because I didn’t have the skill with a tattoo gun I wanted. “I know it’s not perfect. It was really different than drawing with a pencil, and I need to get Dax to fix it—”

Her gaze snapped to meet mine. “You did it yourself?” There was a hint of awe in her voice that had me both awkward and my chest puffing up with pride.

“Yes.”

Her eyes shone. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her words were like a spear right through my chest, opening me up wide. If she hadn’t already owned every inch of my heart, that comment would have done it.

I grasped the side of her face and tilted her head up, so I was staring down at her. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

I lowered my head to kiss her slowly, and we connected again, the words falling away when she kissed me back.

Our hips moved in unison, a rhythm igniting between us, one that was starting to feel familiar as we got to know each other’s bodies and the way we liked to be touched.

I drew her in tighter, wrapping my arms around her so there was no space in between. Her tits pressed against my chest, every inch of us connected.

We’d been making out in the bathroom long enough that we’d both air-dried without any assistance from a towel, and I suddenly wanted her wrapped up in bed with me.

I lifted her, her mouth never separating from mine as I walked us to the bed and laid her down on it.

I thrust into her while she stared up at me, both of us taking kisses whenever we felt like we needed them, her fingers trailing up and down my arms, braced either side of her, across my chest and down my back.

She never stopped touching me.

Never stopped moving her hips, showing me she wanted me inside her just as much as I did.

I pulled the sheet over our heads, blocking out the world, creating one where only she and I existed.

“I love you so much.” I came, spilling myself inside her. My orgasm ripped through my body, sending pulses of pleasure with it that had me breathless.

But even if I’d only had one breath left, I would have used it to tell her I loved her.

So I whispered it over and over again, talking her through her orgasm, feeling her clench around my cock, the sweet agony of feeling her come around me so damn perfect it was hard to imagine anything feeling better.

Beneath those sheets, she was mine. Not Whip’s. Not X’s.

Just mine.

Our breaths mingled, and we both came down from our orgasms, clutching each other close.

I rolled onto the mattress, taking her with me, settling beneath her with my dick still inside her, even though I was completely spent.

“I’m going to squash you,” she mumbled sleepily, head resting on the light dusting of dark hair on my chest.

“You’re going to lie right there and sleep. I’ll be just fucking fine.”

There wasn’t a single other place I wanted to be more. Her weight on top of me was comforting in a way I had never experienced, and the idea of her ever moving off me felt like a fate worse than death.

So I held her there to me, making sure she knew her weight was never something I couldn’t handle or didn’t want.

And whispered that I loved her until she fell asleep.

It was only hours after staring down at her, sleeping on my chest, that I realized she had never said she loved me back.