Page 68 of Merciless Heir

“You play dangerously,” I say to her.

She smiles. “I know.” Then her smile fades. “We’d never last.”

She’s right there. We’re not for each other, even though that might have been the best sex in my life. “Sadie, I…” I stop, unsure what it is I want to say. “I want to say that came from nowhere, or we were drunk, but it’s not true. It’s been brewing. And I’m sober.”

“You and I don’t work. We’re too alike. We’re too different. We…this is just weird.”

Suddenly, I laugh and kiss her. It’s a slow, lazy kiss, one that doesn’t need to go anywhere, one that’s warm and inviting and full of gentle waves of pleasure. It could go places, if we wanted it to. If one of us was to shift or turn it up a notch. But she doesn’t do that and I lose myself in the sweetness of her mouth. The heat. The beauty of it. When I lift my head, I don’t want to laugh anymore.

Because everything she said is why it would never work, even if by some weird turn of events we wanted it to. “Why are we talking about it?”

“Because I like to analyze, and so do you.”

“This sofa is too fucking small,” I say, getting up and stripping down.

Sadie watches, eyes bright with hunger. I reach out, take her hand and draw her to her feet and start stripping her, too.

“I can do that myself.” But she doesn’t try to stop me.

I glance up at her as I kneel down, pulling her panties off, the final article of clothing. The definite article, if you will. She’s waxed bare, like she’s been waiting for me. It’s an incredibly erotic sight, her so exposed. And she’s damp from our sex, her lips swollen, the skin a little reddened from that ride straight to heaven.

Before I can think about it, I take hold of her hips and put my mouth there, sliding my tongue down over her clit, and she rewards me with a sharp intake of breath, her body quivering.

“Part your thighs, Sadie.”

She does.

I keep going. Sliding low, tracing my tongue along her slit, slipping into her, tasting the two of us, and the musk that’s her.

Sadie groans low. I tongue fuck her, down and up, always coming to her clit to tease, a steady beat of movements until she’s panting. Until she’s wetter than before. Until she’s pushing into my face. Her fingers are grasping at me and she’s chanting yes.

I stop, and rise. Her face is flushed and she’s shooting pure murder at me.

I drop a kiss on her mouth. “I think we should take this somewhere more comfortable.”

And because I want to, because I can, I pick her up and she wraps about me and I take her to my bedroom.

“Asshole,” she says.

In my room I drop her on the king bed and she looks good on the sea of navy and gray, splayed, open, inviting me in. She rises on her elbows, parting her legs wider for me and giving me that look that both dares me and tells me to go fuck myself, that look I know, that look which gets me hot.

Only this time, it’s saying fuck you and fuck me and I’m very much into the latter when that invite comes from Sadie Hess.

I go down, making my way up her sweet body, kissing and tasting, nipping her inner thighs, just above her clit, deliberately missing all those delicious parts that make her shake apart because I really am an asshole and I want to tease her into a mindless state, one where she can’t think, only feel.

Up I go, sucking a spot on her hip, biting her stomach, kissing her breasts, her throat, her shoulder, and then I take her mouth as I push into her.

This time we take it slow, a measured fuck that’s erotic, a test in patience, one we both lose as that urgency comes over me. Her, too, from the way she moans and pulls at me, how she pushes up to meet each thrust, how her hands bite at me, like she’s trying to get me further into her, and I want that.

It’s no longer a game. It’s a wordless merge, one of wild storms and high seas of need and pleasure that hovers, drawing me in. She’s tight, so tight. And hot. Her slickness takes me each time I pound into her and her sharp little gasps of air a symphony just for me.

I want to lose myself in her, so far I come out the other side, born and free of her.

And as she shatters around me, dragging me into that release, I don’t think I am.

Not at all.

Chapter Eighteen